


What They Deem Thee to Be

by Cerch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon, Arthurian legend - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Quests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1507952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerch/pseuds/Cerch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Old Religion refuses to acknowledge Arthur as the crown prince, his only choice is to go on to a quest to prove his worth. The Lady of the Lake sends him to retrieve the Grail from the legendary castle of the Fisher king, and with him comes Merlin, both a guide and a judge, full of secrets, past hurts and blinding smiles.</p>
<p>Written for History Big Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What They Deem Thee to Be

**Author's Note:**

> First of all huge thanks to my lovely beta [Sassafrasx](http://sassafrasx.livejournal.com/). That offer about my first born still stands.
> 
> This fic was written for History Big Bang, but despite this it's an alternate universe (though historical one). Some deviations were for fun (magic!), some necessary for the plot and some just because I am actually not a ~6th century Britain expert. Also this is the my first looooong project so any feedback (or just kudos) is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Intended to be a part of a series but stands perfectly well on its own; no cliffhangers etc.

 

_Morgana took no pleasure in the news she was about to deliver. She loved her cousin and knew that their rejection would hurt him badly. Yet she knew it was necessary. At this moment the seed of the whole of Albion’s golden age would be planted. It would still be vulnerable and there were many possible paths which could tramp over the seed, leaving it to die, but she believed that the vision she had seen could come to be. She had faith. Faith in her goddess, faith in Arthur and, she supposed, also faith in Merlin. Not to mention that she rather looked forward to seeing the look on Uther’s face when they denied his power over them._

 

**Chapter 1**

 

Arthur thought he had probably never seen a clear day in Avalon. There always seemed to be an unfathomable amount of mist and shadows curled around the lake so that from the shore one could only catch glimpses of the isle. His mother had always said that Avalon belonged to the twilight world, the land between the mortal lands and those of the fae. She had thought it beautiful and intriguing. Arthur found it eerie.

He stepped gingerly into the boat where both Lancelot and Morgana were already seated. Morgana offered him a hand for support but he ignored it. He knew that it was childish, but she had been like a sister to him when they were children and seeing her announce in front of the whole court that Avalon did not acknowledge him as the lawful heir had felt like betrayal. Logically he knew that the decision had come from the Lady of the Lake, but for now it was easier to direct his anger at Morgana.

Lancelot let him take the opposite end of the boat, putting himself in the middle like some kind of human ward against ill feelings. It was a doomed mission, but Lancelot had always had a tendency to be a little over considerate. Arthur didn’t particularly want to make Lancelot uncomfortable, but he really was not in the mood for a conversation. Instead he stared determinedly into the lake and tried to pretend that he did not know that Morgana was rolling her eyes in annoyance. He heard Lancelot sigh as he pushed the boat away from the shore and Morgana whispered a quiet word, making the boat speed towards the isle.

A boy was standing on the bank of the isle. As they came closer Arthur had to revise his opinion a little. He was a young man, slender, but probably close to Arthur’s age. Arthur almost turned to Morgana to ask why there was a man on the isle of the priestesses, but bit his lip at the last second. He would probably find out soon enough. Maybe he was some kind of escort who had arrived with one of the priestesses.

Arthur had never paid much mind to his father’s dislike of the Old Religion, but right now he was almost ready to admit that they held too much power. The acknowledgement of the heir of Camelot was supposed to be a purely symbolic ceremony, but instead they had gone and declared that because his father had forsaken the old ways (Uther had turned quite an alarming shade of red at that) Arthur needed to prove himself to the Old Religion. 

As Morgana stepped out of the boat with the help of the man, Arthur was startled to notice how similar they looked. They could have been siblings, but surely Arthur would have known if this man was his cousin. The man didn’t look like Iseult, Morgana’s mother, though. He looked somewhat fae, if not completely, but there was definitely something inhuman about him. He could have been related to Morgana by her fae blood, he supposed.

“Are you two related?” he blurted out before he could stop himself, just as the man was exchanging a friendly slap on the shoulder with Lancelot.

Morgana frowned at him and the man visibly stiffened.

“Arthur, dear. This is Merlin. We are not related nor does he have fae blood.”

“But–” Morgana didn’t let him finish.

“Merlin, this is my idiot cousin, Prince Arthur of Camelot. He can be a little slow at times so please be patient with him.”

Merlin smiled, though to Arthur it looked somewhat strained. He gave Morgana his best glare.

“You can’t blame me for making a perfectly reasonable assumption! He looks even more fae than you do and I know for a fact that your father was one.”

A shadow passed over Merlin’s face and his tone held a vicious edge when he answered, “Well, you can stop assuming now, because there is not a hint of fae blood in me. So drop it.”

Arthur spluttered.

“Excuse me? You can’t talk to me like that, I’m your prince!”

“Oh so sorry, your highness,” retorted Merlin in a tone that suggested he was anything but and turned to Morgana.

“You’re right, he is a spoiled idiot. I don’t understand how you were able to put up with him when you were children.”

Morgana giggled. Arthur had to suppress a shiver. Morgana did not giggle. Except when she did, apparently.

 

They were saved from any more conversation (and possibly from Arthur challenging Merlin to a duel) by a yell from the top of the hill. They all turned in the direction of the voice. A group of young girls, priestesses in training no doubt, was hurrying down the path. Arthur felt his smile freeze when he recognised Gaenor. At his side, Lancelot wore a similarly pained expression.

Gaenor was the daughter of Sir Bors, one of Uther’s most trusted knights, and Princess Claire of Mercia. Incidentally, she also happened to be the sister of Arthur’s fiancée, Guinevere. Gaenor was the elder of the twins and initially everyone had expected Arthur to marry her. They had all been childhood friends, and Arthur had even shared a couple of hasty kisses with Gaenor in secret when they had managed to sneak away from Lancelot and Guinevere. But then Gaenor’s magical abilities had emerged, so strong that they could not be ignored, and Gaenor had been sent to Avalon for training. Such a powerful connection to the Old Religion had not suited his father’s plans and when the time came to announce his engagement Uther had chosen Guinevere, not Gaenor.

Unfortunately Gaenor had not given up her dreams of becoming Arthur’s queen and seemed to believe that Lancelot and Guinevere would marry each other. And while there certainly had been something going on between the two, Arthur did not doubt their loyalty to him for a moment. They would never betray or humiliate him by going behind his back. He glanced at Lancelot and thought that they had managed to make things far more complicated than they needed to be.

“Arthur, I missed you!” she squeaked as she flung herself to Arthur, dark curls bouncing. He winced. There was no way this could be described as the kind of behaviour befitting a lady.

“It is a delight to see you as well, Lady Gaenor.”

He tried very hard to keep his annoyance out of his voice and attempted to peel her off of him carefully. He cast a pleading look at the others. Morgana was eyeing Gaenor disapprovingly, but didn’t seem inclined to help. Merlin just looked bemused, but Lancelot, blessedly, decided to distract his assailant.

“Lady Gaenor, why don’t you introduce us to your lovely companions?” Reluctantly Gaenor released Arthur and turned to the girls who had followed her.

“Oh drop the titles you two. We have known each other for ages.” She pouted prettily. “These are my fellow acolytes. Ladies Rhiain and Aldyth. And this is Carys.” Her voice dropped into an awed whisper. “Her father is a druid.”

The girls smiled shyly at them. Rhiain and Aldyth were both dark haired and held themselves in the manner of ladies of the court. Yet nothing really set Carys apart from them. She held her head up proudly, her brown hair braided away from her face, but she seemed displeased that Gaenor had made her out to be any different from the others.

Morgana appeared to share her displeasure and waved her hand impatiently.

“Enough pleasantries. Mother will want to see you, Arthur, and I’m sure the Lady will be ready for you soon.”

To Arthur it sounded suspiciously like the priestesses had already decided how they wanted him to prove himself. Probably some kind of magical oath. Arthur loathed those. If he gave his word he also kept it.

 

xxx

 

The Lady of the Lake wasn’t human. She might have been once, but now she there was no way she could be mistaken for a mortal. Her skin was the colour of ivory, hair fire-red and her eyes seemed to always reflect the swirling waters of Avalon.

She was standing at courtyard, talking to Elaine, Lancelot’s mother, when they stepped inside. She lifted her hand in greeting.

“I was expecting you, Arthur, son of Igraine.”

Arthur had rather hoped so since she had been the one to summon him, but he kept his face neutral.

“Lady Ninie.” He gave her a small bow and nodded to Elaine.

“The Old Gods demand proof that you will be a fit king. Your father has turned away from us and by day the life of those who follow the old ways gets harder. We do not condemn the new ways for in the end all gods are the same, but we demand that every man has to have the right to choose for themselves, don’t you agree?”

While his father had made them both attend mass, his mother had taught him to respect the old ways. He personally preferred the sophistication of the new religion and found the sacrifices the priestesses gave the gods distasteful, but he knew that the land demanded its due. The fact that the new religion also gave more respect to the nobility made Arthur suspect that the latter weighed more heavily on his father’s judgement. However, no matter what he believed himself, he couldn’t see any good coming out of forcing people to follow something they did not believe in and said as much to Ninie.

Ninie smiled. It wasn’t an entirely pleasant expression; it was full of knowledge, with a predatory glint and something that almost looked disturbingly like pity.

“Yet the gods demand you prove your heart. We–” she gestured to the group of priestesses that had appeared behind her “–have decided that you shall return the Grail to us.”

Arthur had always thought that the Grail was just a fairy tale, but he was fairly sure the priestesses wouldn’t send him to retrieve an item that did not exist.

“–and Merlin shall go with you as a guide and tell us about your journey afterwards so that we can give you our judgement. Lancelot cannot come with you.”

That was just perfect. He was to be judged based on a report by Merlin, who presumably loathed him at the moment. He noticed that everyone in the courtyard was staring at him. Morgana looked thoroughly amused and he prayed that his reaction hadn’t been completely obvious.

“Is there any reason this arrangement would not suit you?” Ah, no such luck then. He studied Ninie’s all too knowing face and decided that complaining wouldn’t do him any good.

“No, Lady. I won’t disappoint you.” He could deal with Merlin. After all he was more than charming when he wanted to be.

 

**Chapter 2**

 

“So the first part of your quest is to get this boat to shore,” Merlin announced, disgustingly cheerful for the early hour. Everyone else except for Ninie, who probably didn’t even need sleep, was still in bed.

Arthur groaned and tried to force his eyes to stay open.

“I can’t very well to get the boat to the shore without oars, Merlin. I should have known you wouldn’t even have magic to help us along.” Merlin raised an eyebrow in a very scary imitation of Morgana. He really wouldn’t have been surprised if the two of them had been related.

“Even if I did what makes you think I would use it for you?”

Arthur raised an eyebrow in return. He was almost positive he managed it even in his half-asleep state.

“Because the Lady said that you were also to aid me?”

Merlin’s smile faltered for a moment before turning smug.

“Oh, fine. Here you go,” Merlin said and produced an oar from somewhere beneath the dock. One oar, and quite a pitiful one at that. He sighed and took it.

 

The movement of the boat was vaguely sickening, slow and wobbly, with a painfully clear difference from the smooth passage with Morgana’s magic. While Arthur wasn’t sure if his face hadn’t frozen into a permanent scowl, Merlin had somehow still retained his good spirits. To be honest he seemed almost to take delight in Arthur’s discomfort. Luckily struggling with the oar didn’t take all of Arthur’s attention, so he started to plot revenge – in a very dignified manner suiting a prince, naturally. It was a shame that the dark waters didn’t seem inclined to give him any inspiration.

“I thought we were going to the Perilous lands?” asked Arthur as Merlin set the course in another direction. Merlin looked at him from over his shoulder.

“We are.”

“Then, Merlin, we should be going in that direction,” he said in his most patient voice, and pointed the right way.

“If we were taking the straight route, yes. But we aren’t.”

 

Merlin naturally refused to tell him where they were going before the Perilous lands and why, and Arthur was left with no choice but to follow. Or as Merlin put it: “Either you come or fail your quest, not much difference to me, my lord.”

The first signs of autumn had appeared in the forest and the strained silence between them turned into something easier and almost comfortable. It was slow going though, and Arthur knew they needed to purchase horses as soon as possible. His own horse was in Camelot, because there were no stables at or near the isle.

Merlin seemed to be enjoying the forest as well. He peered up at the trees and broke seemingly at random into delighted smiles. The forest was alive around him in a way it didn’t seem to be around Arthur. The wind blew the first brightly coloured leaves into his hair, birds flew to the lower branches and a fox peeked out at the path from the bushes. And Merlin had never looked more otherworldly than he did here, his cheeks red, eyes full of innocent joy, his movements almost like a slow, graceful dance. Until he stumbled on a stray root, or possibly just air, and the illusion was shattered and Arthur was able to look away for a moment. Not that he was staring.

Usually when this happened Merlin was able to recover his balance with some uncoordinated flailing so that he somehow didn’t end up face first in the ground. This time though the invisible whatever Merlin had gotten his foot stuck in sent him into the bushes with a heavy thud and a muffled curse. Arthur couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing; Merlin was absolutely ridiculous. When he didn’t rise immediately though Arthur’s laughter died, making room for creeping concern and he stepped closer to make sure that Merlin was alright. With his luck Merlin had hit his head on a rock or something.

“Merlin?” he asked tentatively, and listened in silence for a moment. Even the forest seemed to quiet around him, but there was no answer.

He peered into the bush and before he had time to do anything his feet were swept out from under him. He could taste soil in his mouth and spit out in disgust as he turned to look at his side. Merlin’s face was just inches away, crumpled with silent laughter. When Arthur met his gaze it seemed he couldn’t help himself anymore and burst into giggles. Arthur tried to scowl but watching Merlin, all dishevelled and dirty, giggling on the ground next to him, he couldn’t completely banish the smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You might not be a complete arse after all,” said Merlin, still all smiles, as Arthur extended him a hand to help him from the ground.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the crown–” he faltered because really, the fact that he wasn’t the crown prince was the reason he was there at all. “Well, the prince of Camelot and thus it is impossible for me to be an arse.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You are unbelievable, that’s for sure.”

“But I’m the prince and thus above the reproach of peasants such as yourself.”

“It’s the peasants that make the kingdom you know?” said Merlin, playfulness fading from his voice. “Not the king or his knights. Without the people there is no kingdom to rule.” Merlin gave him an earnest and expectant look, which somehow warned Arthur not to make fun of him and instead made him consider his answer carefully.

“And yet the king and those he trusts are the ones who make the kingdom in their image. A kingdom with a bad king suffers regardless of who lives there.”

“I’m not saying you’re completely wrong. But those who can would leave a kingdom like that and then what are you the king of? Nature heeds no king even if you claim ownership over it.”

Merlin wasn’t wrong, but Arthur also knew that it wasn’t an easy thing for people to just pick up their things and leave. It was the last resort.

“You make it sound much simpler than it is. You tell me I’m spoiled, but I can tell you’ve also lived a sheltered life. But I think there might be some wisdom somewhere in there, as surprising as that may be.”

Merlin shrugged. “Prat.”

“Merlin, you really cannot address me like that.”

“You’re travelling anonymously. What better way to disguise you than to treat you like anyone else?” Merlin, the bastard, was smirking.

“There is nobody here to hear you.”

“I’m practising. Wouldn’t want me to slip in front of other people, now would you?”

The rest of the day’s journey was spent full of light banter and to his surprise Arthur noticed that he was enjoying himself more than he had in a long time.

 

xxx

 

As the night fell, washing away the colours around them, they set up a fire. Or more accurately, Merlin did, but Arthur graciously helped to gather the wood. Afterwards they huddled near it to nibble on their rations. After a lot of squirming on Arthur’s part he finally managed to ask the question he had been pondering since their first meeting.

“Why were you so touchy about the fae?”

Merlin scrutinised him for a moment in silence before blinking owlishly.

“It’s none of your business, really.”

Arthur huffed in annoyance.

“Obviously it is. You’ve been right insufferable towards me because of it.”

Merlin watched him with an open, amused expression and Arthur was sure he was going to relent, but then the shadows closed over his face. “No, it really isn’t.”

Arthur almost pushed. It was a really close thing, but there was a small voice in his head that screamed at him to back off and for once he listened. Mainly because he felt that Merlin would not tell him no matter what he said and the truth was that it unnerved him. He shrugged in a hopefully nonchalant manner and changed the subject.

“As you wish.” In retrospect maybe not his cleverest retort. “Why have I never seen you when I visited the isle? I understand that you grew up there and you obviously know Morgana well.”

“I have.” At Arthur’s puzzled look he added, “Seen you before that is. You were visiting the isle with you mother. We didn’t speak but you seemed like a sweet child. Shame how you turned out.” Merlin’s voice was so serious and melancholy that it took Arthur a moment to notice he had been insulted. To make up for it he gave Merlin’s head a hard slap.

Merlin yelped and sent him an exaggeratingly wounded look. “Prat.”

“Shut up, Merlin, and answer the question properly.”

“You’re terribly indecisive. First you tell me to shut up and then that I should answer the question. Not a good trait in a king you know.”

Arthur reminded himself that strangling Merlin was probably not a good idea.

“So I’ll help and decide for you instead: I’ll tell you. It’s not really all that complicated. The isle is for the priestesses and I lived there only until I started my training with the druids.  Still visit it often though, and you know I hardly could have avoided getting to know Morgana. She’s rather awesome.” Arthur gave him a sharp look at that. If Merlin had romantic interest in Morgana there was nothing but heartbreak in store for him. Unfortunately Arthur had never been good at distinguishing more complicated emotions. He knew anger, pride and loyalty, but he had no idea if Merlin’s words carried something deeper than platonic admiration.

“What did you train with the druids then?” he asked absently to cover up his thoughts.

Merlin squirmed and Arthur snapped back into focus. Merlin was clearly a real cluster of secrets. “Things?” Merlin tried widening his eyes innocently. Arthur gave him his most unimpressed look and Merlin sighed. “Umm. Healing, you know, herbs, and things about gods and prophecies and balance? And of course I also learned to read and write.”

Arthur had to admit that he was a tiny bit impressed. The craft of writing was not something everyone knew. Not that he would ever admit any of that out loud–

“You probably drove all your teachers to the brink of madness.” Which in all fairness was most likely true, for no teacher would happily tolerate Merlin’s insubordination.

Merlin grinned in admission. “Only some of them. But I’m sure yours went over the edge on the first day.”

“Oi!” he yelped, pretending to be affronted, and gave Merlin a playful shove. “They had lost their wits long before I came along.”

They grinned at each other and Arthur felt something uncurling in his chest. He had never felt this easy friendship with anyone. There was always this gulf caused by his higher position, but Merlin did not seem to care. He was intrigued by the enigma Merlin presented, and he didn’t feel like leaving him unsolved.

 

 

**Chapter 3**

 

Arthur startled awake as Merlin, curled close to his side to hide from the biting cold of the night, sprung up from the bed with a sharp intake of breath.  Before he had had a chance to say anything Merlin was out of the – well, not quite a cave, more like a sheltered niche – leaving Arthur to fumble for his sword before following. He had no idea how Merlin had noticed before him, but there was clearly someone moving about in the woods.

When he reached Merlin he was greeted with a peculiar sight. A man clad in amour was standing before Merlin. It was clearly no ordinary amour: all of the leather that Arthur could see had been dyed a brilliant green colour and even the armour itself seemed to have acquired an elusive green shine. He hadn't removed his helmet, though he had inclined his head in an obvious sign of respect towards Merlin – which was odd enough in itself – but he also bore no visible sigils. Even his weapon, a large broadsword, was without any markings. Whoever this man was, it was clear to Arthur that he was very fond of his anonymity.

“Emrys,” the knight greeted Merlin as he lifted his head. Arthur made a mental note to ask Merlin what it meant later.

“Sir Green Knight.” This was clearly a ritual of odd greetings.

Merlin’s tone was less than pleased and he was standing with his hands on his hips, but there wasn't any alarm in either his voice or posture. He didn’t seem to believe the knight bore immediate danger so Arthur relaxed a fraction.

“I have come to perform my duty. Stand aside, for you cannot interfere.” The knight’s tone, almost apologetic and painfully polite, conflicted with his ominous words. Arthur did not have a terribly good feeling about this. After a heartbeat of tense silence Merlin’s shoulders slumped slightly and he stepped aside without argument. Arthur viciously shoved down the traitorous sting of betrayal when Merlin refused to meet his eyes and strode towards the knight with his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“State your business,” he demanded in his best imitation of his father’s I-am-the-king-obey-me voice.

The knight inclined his head in greeting but instead of speaking he immediately removed his gauntlet with deliberate slowness. Arthur watched, almost mesmerised by the flickering green, and tried to guess what reason this strange man could have for challenging him. The only thing he could think of was some grudge against his father. He was frankly getting quite tired of those. When the knight had lifted the gauntlet to his breast he spoke:

“Prince Arthur of Camelot, I have come to challenge you to a fight to death.” The knight tossed the gauntlet to Arthur’s feet. He picked it up with grace while sneaking a glance at Merlin, who was watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Had he known? Did this have something to do with the Lady of the Lake? It didn’t really matter at the moment though.

“And I accept.” Like refusing had ever been an option for him.

 

xxx

 

Arthur didn’t have his full armour with him because it was difficult to carry and prone to attracting attention. It was just as well though. The Green Knight had the advantage of size and Arthur’s best bet was to use his agility and stamina while trusting his chainmail to offer him enough protection. He felt a nervous pickle go through him, but quashed it. He had trained with the sword for as long as he could remember and he knew he was one of the best. Besides, it wasn’t like he could afford to lose.

Merlin interrupted his thoughts by tripping over something behind him. He had tried to talk to Arthur after they had appointed a time and place, and the Green Knight had left, but Arthur had ignored him.

“Did you know?” he barked, and watched with satisfaction as Merlin jumped at the sound of his voice. When he recovered he sent Arthur a dark glare.

“No.” Merlin’s voice was clipped like it had been at their first meeting, miles away from the banter of last night.  “I suppose I could have guessed, but that doesn’t mean you get to be an arse about it.”

To his surprise Arthur found himself feeling a little pang of guilt over Merlin’s words, and he let a tiny apologetic note creep into his voice.

“Look, just– never mind. So he is part of the test?”

Merlin scowled at him, clearly not appreciating Arthur’s efforts. “Yes,” he answered shortly.

Arthur sighed. “Not that hard now was it, Merlin? Wish me luck.”

He was almost sure that he felt Merlin touch his forearm briefly as he hurried past him. Arthur chose to take it as a good luck charm.

 

xxx

 

The Green Knight cast an unmoving shadow against the forest’s edge. He seemed to be standing in the exact same place where they had left him, but Arthur was sure he was imagining it. It might have been an intimidation tactic but such things were wasted on him. The knight was eerie, certainly, but he was too seasoned fighter to let it affect his bearing. He cast a last glance at Merlin who had trailed silently behind him. He wasn’t quite sure if he could trust him, but whatever side Merlin was on, Arthur was quite sure he was not against him directly. He would have time to figure Merlin out properly after the fight.

His sword slid effortlessly out of its sheath. It felt familiar in his hand, responding eagerly to his thoughts as he balanced himself for the fight. The Green Knight had also lifted his sword, but now stood again in perfect stillness. Then Merlin gave the signal to begin.

Arthur would have lost right then and there if his instincts hadn’t taken over. The Green Knight moved fast, far faster than he had any right to, and swung at Arthur’s defenceless side. He had no time or strength to block the swing from that angle so he threw himself gracelessly backwards. He barely managed to stay upright.

He was prepared for the next blow. His training was not for nothing: he was brilliant with a sword and nobody caught him off guard twice. Unfortunately, the same seemed to be true for the Green Knight and they fell into a pattern of blows and dodges. Guinevere had once compared the training of knights to dancers, but this was nothing like a dance. He was hot, sweat clinging to his skin and stinging his eyes. His sword hand ached from the strength of the blows he had failed to avoid completely. He had managed to get in some minor strikes but he suspected he had some scrapes as well.

For the moment he had the advantage. He was forcing his aching muscles to move faster, spinning around the knight, preventing him from doing anything other than blocking the blows his armour couldn’t take. The woods were looming close behind him. If Arthur was able to force him onto uneven ground he would be as good as the victor.

Suddenly the earth gave way under his leg. Not much, but enough for him to lose his focus on his attack. Arthur was able to bring his sword up to block the blow, legs bowing at the force of it, and then his leg slipped completely and his knee touched ground. He had no time to be noble. The next blow was already swinging to his way. Instead of trying to avoid it Arthur surged forwards. His sword slid easily into the knee of the knight, the shift in balance enough to take away the worst of the blow aimed at him. It still connected, but Arthur would have time to assess the damage later. Now he pressed his advantage.

He kicked the wounded leg out from under the knight who crumbled to the ground like a pile of rocks, his sword flying to the side. He placed his leg to the knights back and brought his sword to his throat. He smiled. The exhilaration of the battle was screaming in his veins, bringing the world into sculpture-like focus. The wind was blowing from the east. A bird was singing. He crouched down, still smiling. Idiots who thought they could best him at his own game.

“I am afraid this is what happens to the people who try to kill me.” There was a sound, but it didn’t come from the knight. Arthur looked up to seek out any possible new threat and saw Merlin. Merlin, whose lips were pursed together in a thin line, and whose eyes were both reserved – almost judgemental – and pleading.

Arthur looked back down at the knight. He hadn’t even seen the face of the man he was about to kill. Was he fair or dark, young or old? Were his eyes as unguarded as Merlin’s? The least Arthur could do for the knight was to meet his eyes as he took the final blow. The brightness around him was fading, pain and numbness making their way into his body.

“Sit up.” He did not offer the man support.

“My lord?” The man’s voice was questioning but he obeyed as fast as his injured knee allowed him to.

“Remove your helm.”

This time there was a moment of hesitation before the knight obeyed and revealed his face.

It was an honest face. He was maybe a little older than Arthur, but still young. Too young to die simply because Arthur needed to prove himself on this quest. He had won the fight – surely that would be enough for the Lady.

“What is your name?”

The knight looked positively bewildered.

“My mother named me Percival, my lord.”

“Then, Percival, I will give you your life for you fought with honour, and I could use such a man in my service. When you find yourself freed from your current obligations would you pledge your sword to me?”

Arthur was a little impressed with his own genius. Percival would be a valuable addition to his knights – and with no ties to his father the man would be loyal to him first and foremost.

“It would be my honour.”

“Excellent!” Arthur beamed at Percival. “Merlin, patch up his leg.”

“What?” came an indignant squeak from Merlin’s direction.

“You said you had studied healing and we can hardly leave good Percival here untreated. I need to get rid of this chainmail and wash myself.”

Merlin’s arms were crossed but the smile he gave Arthur was bright and full of hope. Feeling his cheeks heat Arthur stomped away.

 

**Chapter 4**

 

Arthur suspected Percival’s last blow had cracked a rib. He had managed to remove his chainmail with lot of undignified squirming and was now washing his scrapes in the stream. The cold water stung his wounds, but Arthur bit his lip and didn’t waver from the task. At least until he heard Merlin speaking suddenly beside him and almost fell into the stream in surprise, that is. For all his clumsiness Merlin could also be uncannily silent.

“Percival’s gone. Why didn’t you tell me you were this badly hurt?”

Arthur was certainly not about to admit that he hadn’t even realised he was hurt during the high of the fight.

“Percival needed your help more than I did. He was able to walk?” he asked instead, frowning.

“Yes, and he has a horse. Let me see your rib.” He didn’t wait for Arthur’s permission but knelt at his side and pressed his hands gently to Arthur’s bare skin. Even that light touch felt unpleasant on his wounds.

“I could probably heal this.”

“Merlin, you do realise that you cannot really call bandaging and some pain relief, assuming you either have or can actually make one, healing?”

Merlin bit his lip and stared at Arthur thoughtfully for a moment. When he spoke his voice was quiet and hesitant, a blush staining his cheeks. “No, I mean I could probably heal your rib with magic.”

Arthur gaped.

“What?!” He tried to collect his thoughts. “Are you telling me that you have magic?”

“Yes?” It sounded suspiciously like a question.

Arthur gaped some more. Merlin – gangly, fey-looking Merlin – who had happily let him row the boat from Avalon, was magic. Somehow it made perfect sense and Arthur wasn’t sure whom he wanted to smack more, Merlin or himself.

“Of course you are,” he said resignedly. “Get on with the healing then.”

Merlin gave him a hesitant smile and then gold was washed away the blue of his eyes.

Arthur would have thought that healing would be accompanied by some sort of distinctive feel of magic, but instead there was only the warmth of Merlin’s hand and a little itch he restrained himself from scratching. It was possible that Arthur was a little distracted by Merlin’s eyes though. The molten gold shone in the dim light of the forest, beautiful and welcoming and not at all alien or frightening. He had never seen magic from up so close before. Actually, if he thought about it, he hadn’t really seen any magic apart from flashy party ticks. This was something else entirely. Breathtaking, even if the only thing Arthur could see was Merlin’s eyes. So breathtaking in fact that Arthur realised he had stopped breathing only as Merlin blinked and withdrew his hand, his eyes back to stormy blue.

“How does it feel?”

Arthur drew a deep breath and shrugged experimentally. When it didn’t hurt he carefully stretched his hands to above his head. It was incredible and certainly a little disconcerting to notice that absolutely nothing in his body could have told him that he had just broken a rib. He gave Merlin a smile he suspected looked a little bewildered.

“It’s like it was never broken.”

“You’re welcome,” Merlin retorted cheekily, but Arthur was quite positive that his smile was relieved above everything else.

 

xxx

 

Merlin refused to buy horses from the town claiming that they had no use for horses on this quest. Arthur secretly suspected the real reason was that Merlin couldn’t ride but eventually relented. It was Merlin after all who knew the route they were actually taking.

They spent the night in an inn and Arthur relished the comfort of a bed, even if it wasn’t nearly as grand as his own in Camelot. He did notice, however, that Merlin slept uneasily, probably unused to sleeping on anything other than a duvet.

As Merlin woke him up the next morning by opening the curtains and letting the evil light crawl into his eyes, Arthur couldn’t help but note that there was a certain air about him, like he had come to a decision.

Unsurprisingly as soon as they had left the inn Merlin said, “There is something I want to show you if you don’t mind straying from the straightest route a little?”

“How much is a little?” Arthur asked suspiciously, since he really wasn’t keen on a delay. But he also had a feeling that Merlin wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.

“Umm.” Merlin stared at the ground thoughtfully. “Couple of hours maybe. No more than half a day in any case.”

“I suppose that’s alright,” he said a little reluctantly. Half a day was hardly going to be of great significance on this journey and if he made Merlin happy in the process, well, Merlin was the one judging his success so pleasing him was hardly going to hurt.

 

xxxx

 

The forest Merlin led him through was darker than the one surrounding Avalon. Arthur supposed it was probably because the path was narrower, the trees on both sides reaching over it towards each other, blocking the sun, but the way Merlin seemed to avoid making any unnecessary noise made Arthur wonder if the forest made him uneasy. He might have been a little glad himself when the path broke into a clearing.

The sun was higher in the sky than he had thought. They had already used almost half a day. He was just opening his mouth to ask Merlin how much farther they were going when something from his peripheral vision caught his eye. Slowly he turned to look fully in that direction and just managed to hold in the sharp intake of breath that would undoubtedly have scared the unicorn away.

The beast was almost breathtakingly beautiful, its horn more masterful than any piece of craftsmanship Arthur had ever seen. If he could just reach his crossbow without alerting it, the kill would be his. Carefully he pulled it from behind his back. There was no wind. Everything was perfect, nothing could ruin this. He took aim and quickly lamented that the horn would be the only thing he would be able to take with him. The arrow sang in the air but suddenly there was a piercing, inhuman scream and the arrow stopped. In mid-air. The unicorn stared at them.

Slowly Arthur turned to Merlin. His eyes were blazing gold, his hand outstretched towards the arrow. As Arthur watched he curled his fingers like claws and the arrow crumpled into dust.

“Wha–?” started Arthur, bewildered, but Merlin spoke straight over him, muttering something in the language of the Old Religion. The unicorn tossed its head and disappeared into the forest. Arthur exploded.

“What do you think you’re doing? It was a perfect kill. How often do you think anyone comes across a unicorn. Are you mentally–”

Merlin was screaming right back at him before he had a chance to finish. “Me?! What do you think you’re doing?” Merlin took a step closer. “I bring you here, to the sacred grove, and YOU TRY TO KILL A UNICORN!” Another step and Merlin was standing right in front of his face. Arthur averted his eyes and cursed mentally. Of course it was a sacred grove where all the game belonged to the local goddess. Merlin had probably just saved him from getting cursed. It was still a real shame though.

“Look, I didn’t know it was a sacred grove. I wouldn’t have if I had, but we had just arrived and I hadn’t noticed the tree.” For indeed now the great oak standing in the middle of the clearing was somewhat obvious. “Thank you for stopping me.”

Instead of seeming placated Merlin stared at him like he had just grown a second head. “You– That’s– The grove?” He stopped, took a deep breath and Arthur watched with alarm as every opening he had cracked in Merlin’s armour closed off right before his eyes.

“You, Arthur Pendragon, are a blind, sad boy. I thought there was more to you than that but obviously I was wrong.”

 

**Chapter 5**

 

“Merlin?”

There was nothing in Merlin’s posture indicating that he had heard Arthur. Arthur was starting to get seriously annoyed. Clearly Merlin had a tendency to take offence about the most ridiculous things to the most ridiculous extent. He hadn’t known and he had apologized, surely hours of sullen silence was unnecessary.

“I apologized, what else do you want?”

Only silence met his words.

 

xxx

 

They stopped in a small town as night fell. Merlin had broken his silence for short and terse replies to Arthur’s questions about where they were going (“North-East.”), when they would reach the Perilous lands (“Depends.”) and what was the real reason Merlin was so mad (for Arthur had figured out that there had to be something he wasn’t grasping, but Merlin only gave him a look). Now, however, he was chatting happily away with everyone in the inn. Everyone that wasn’t Arthur that was.

Truthfully Arthur didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t a stranger to disappointing people. He felt that since his mother had died he had been nothing but a disappointment to his father. Yet he knew what his father expected of him and strived to achieve those expectations. With Merlin he had no idea what those expectations were. Some of them were about the quest, but when Merlin had said he had been wrong thinking Arthur might have been someone great it had been more than that.

At some point he had started to like Merlin, hoping they could be friends – or at least to the extent he could have any as a prince. He cared what Merlin thought about him because he wanted Merlin to like him. Watching him now with some village boy, laughing freely and gesturing wildly in every direction possible made him want to drag Merlin away to their room and lock the door after them. Merlin was on this quest with him. He was basically working for Arthur and he had no business going and having fun with some peasants while Arthur needed him.

He slammed his pint onto the table a little more violently than the poor table probably deserved and shoved himself up. At the sound, Merlin turned away from his companion and frowned at Arthur. Arthur glared back and strode, his legs luckily steady, towards Merlin.

“We are leaving early tomorrow so I’m sure your companion will excuse you for retiring early.” When both Merlin and the peasant gave him a puzzled look he added hastily, “I don’t want you bumbling in drunk and waking me in the middle of the night.” Merlin scowled at him, but rose. Arthur smirked in satisfaction and took the lead to their room.

His satisfaction didn’t last long.

As soon as the door to their room was closed Merlin seethed at him.

“You are completely insufferable! If you can’t even show basic human courtesy I’m deeming you unfit here and now, and that’s the end of your quest!”

Arthur froze. He couldn’t fail. Merlin couldn’t do that, not based on personal feelings. Even if Arthur might have hoped that Merlin liked him it wasn’t necessary. But failure wasn’t a possibility for so many reasons. With succession in danger many would consider Camelot weak and his father would be furious, either denying the Old Religion or banishing Arthur. It would be a catastrophe to both the people and to Arthur personally.

“You can’t,” he said, trying to keep his voice from showing how desperate he was.

Merlin stared at him unblinkingly, golden shadows dancing around in his eyes. Arthur sincerely hoped that it was a reflection from the fire and nothing else.

“I can,” he said. “But I won’t. Not yet anyway.”

“Thank you.” There were other things he wanted to say as well: how they should keep their personal feelings apart from the quest, how Merlin really should have given him more respect and how he was honestly sorry. Sorry for dragging Merlin away from his friend just to be spiteful and because he was a tiny bit drunk, and sorry for whatever he had done wrong at the grove.

Merlin climbed into his bed and drew his knees up to his chest, never once removing his eyes from Arthur. He lifted a questioning eyebrow and Merlin gave him a tired and strained smile in response.

“Go to sleep, my lord.”

He tried to decide if the proper form of address meant that Merlin was less angry and concluded that the answer was probably not.

“Good night, Merlin.”

 

xxx

 

He awoke to the creaking of the floorboards and immediately sneaked his right hand under his pillow and around the hilt of his dagger. The room was still dark but Arthur could make out a silhouette tiptoeing around. He tightened his grip, the familiar shape comforting in his hand. Then the figure turned to glance at him, and even against the faint light Arthur recognised Merlin instantly. What on earth was he doing up? Merlin had his coat on so he was clearly going out, but maybe he was just going to relieve himself. Yet somehow Arthur didn’t think so and he scrambled up as soon as the door closed behind Merlin. Really, it was for Merlin’s safety that he would follow. Merlin, even if he had magic, was certainly a little clueless. He hid his sword under his cloak and hurried after him.

Arthur opened the back door of the inn carefully, but as he stepped outside the yard was completely empty. He was already cursing himself for losing Merlin before he’d even had a chance to find him in the first place when a faint shimmer of blue light from the woods caught his attention. Smirking widely, he quietly slid to follow the swirling blue.

He caught up with Merlin easily. He was clearly in no hurry, his steps light but careful on the forest floor. The source of the blue light was there as well: a sphere floating in front of Merlin and illuminating the way. It swirled in colours of silver and blue that seemed to reach out to Merlin, swimming around him and denying all the laws of nature with how it crept over shadows. It was a little eerie and yet oddly beautiful at the same time, but Arthur had no doubts that if he hadn’t known this was Merlin he would have found it much more disconcerting. But it was Merlin, whom Arthur felt was incapable of intentionally harming anyone, and even his magic felt… not quite harmless, but good in some fundamental way that Arthur couldn’t quite define.

Something cracked in the forest and Merlin stopped, scanning the woods around him expectantly. Arthur crouched down, hoping he hadn’t been spotted. This would be somewhat difficult to explain to Merlin as anything other than spying; though in reality Merlin was the one at fault for sneaking out in the middle of the night in the first place. Arthur scowled at the ground. It was wet and chilly, and he really hoped Merlin would get on with whatever he was doing.

He didn’t need to wait long. A shape was moving in the trees, approaching Merlin. The blue light reflected off its white hair making it seem even more magical. It was the unicorn – or a unicorn, he supposed, because he certainly couldn’t tell if it was the same one from before. Merlin approached it carefully, hand extended, and the unicorn greeted him by nuzzling gently. Merlin gave a quiet laugh and let his hand run down its graceful neck. It was a breathtaking sight and Arthur wished he could have the royal painter immortalise it on canvas. For a moment he watched mesmerized as Merlin stood there murmuring to the unicorn with quiet words Arthur couldn’t make out, but finally the chilliness of the forest made him retreat. He had certainly seen where Merlin had been going.

 

xxx

 

Arthur watched with a certain self-satisfaction when Merlin startled at the fire blazing in the hearth before turning to look at him with wide eyes.

“Umm. I was just, umm, taking a piss.”

Arthur lifted his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Merlin fidgeted and nodded mutely, staring defiantly into the space behind Arthur’s head. Really, the man was a dreadful liar.

“You see, I was kind of thinking about the grove and the unicorn.” Merlin’s eyes hardened immediately and Arthur had to suppress a sigh. “It isn’t about the grove, is it? It’s about the unicorn. You think I shouldn’t have tried to kill it anyway.”

Merlin muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” he asked sharply.

“Oh nothing, my lord. Just wondering how you can be such a spoiled brat. If you see something pretty you want it and think you have the right to take it. Do you have any idea how rare unicorns are? They are part of the world’s magic and you just want to have its head as a trophy on the wall.”

“Horn.” Merlin stared at him incredulously and Arthur cleared his throat. “Anyway. It’s just a beast, Merlin. Beautiful and rare, true, but no different than any other mindless creature wandering in the forest.”

“All life is sacred and you nobles offend the land by hunting its children for fun. But unicorns are even more than that. They are magic. Can you truly say that the horn on your wall would be more beautiful than the living miracle treading through the forests?” Merlin’s voice was both sharp and pleading.

Arthur squirmed. He thought about the proud smile his father would give him. Only hours earlier the answer would have been easy. But seeing the unicorn with Merlin in the forest had been an extraordinary sight, and one he wished he could keep with him forever.

“I–” he started hesitantly and stopped when he realised he had no idea what to say. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a while.

Merlin looked disappointed, but the anger seemed to have left him. “I guess that’s all I can expect from you,” he said quietly and turned to stoke the fire.

Arthur stared at his back for a long time and wondered just how Merlin managed to make him feel more inadequate than anyone else, barring his father.

 

**Chapter 6**

 

They reached the borderlands the next day. It was an area between Camelot and Mercia, controlled by petty kings who changed their alliances as they saw fit. Arthur could see why his father hadn’t bothered to take the area more firmly under his control. It was rocky and lifeless land, yielding crops stingily and burdening the scarce population with harsh winters.

“It’s beautiful. Harsh and unyielding, but beautiful,” said Merlin unexpectedly. He was standing atop a bald hill, his gaze resting on the lands opening up before them.

Arthur followed his gaze, trying to find the beauty Merlin spoke of, and failed. His mind automatically supplied him with military tactics fit for the landscape and assessed the poor productivity of the land against the costs of maintaining it.

“I don’t see it,” he said. “It’s basically a waste.”

The look Merlin gave him was decidedly unimpressed. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

He shook his head and grinned. “No wonder you and Morgana like each other. She was always fascinated by the Northern Waste and the Perilous Lands.”

Morgana had never been terribly fond of ladylike fascinations.

“Father almost had a stroke when she presented her painting about a crow sitting atop a human skeleton on the waste to the court.”

While his father had mainly left chastening Morgana to his wife (who had simply smiled fondly and chastised her for making a public spectacle and not about the painting itself), the poor instructor had not been graced with a similar gift.

“Once the instructor told her that ladies should paint flowers and butterflies she had stuck her paintbrush, coated in a generous amount of black paint, in his face."

The nostalgia of the memories was bittersweet. Sometimes he truly missed having Morgana at his side. He tried to avoid thinking about how much he missed his mother.

Arthur was positive he heard a faint chuckle from Merlin. “How old was she?”

“It was couple of years before she left, maybe eleven?”

Merlin only hummed in response, but it sounded thoughtful, different from the grunts Arthur had mostly been receiving. He allowed himself a smug smile.

“Do you ever wish she’d stayed?” Merlin asked, glancing at him curiously.

“You clearly must have some sort of mental affliction.” She would have gone crazy. As much as he had hated her magic at the time at least it had given her an excuse to get away from the court.

“And you have an emotional depth of a rock. No, wait. I’m pretty sure that’s insulting to the rocks,” Merlin said, laughing and dodging Arthur’s smack. Bastard.

Arthur glanced around before following him down the slope. There was no one to see him run after Merlin like the child of a serving wench, free from all the cares of the world. He laughed, the crisp air burning in his lungs, and thought that maybe this place truly wasn’t bereft of all things beautiful.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Merlin to remember his displeasure with Arthur. He stayed perfectly polite and even cracked a few involuntary smiles, but kept to himself, sidestepping all of Arthur’s attempts at conversation. After ten or so failed attempts Arthur finally gave up. It wasn’t becoming for him to vie for someone’s attention. It was meant to be the other way around and usually was, but Merlin clearly couldn’t grasp this. It was a shame because he had truly enjoyed bantering with him, but that was just pleasure. He scowled at Merlin’s back. If all Merlin wanted was to do his duty then Arthur was going to help him by being every inch the prince instead of a friend.

 

xxx

 

“Merlin, please tell me we are not actually going there?”

Arthur had been expecting it since the steep stone walls of the fortress had finally peeked in front of them from a distance. There weren’t many places they could have been headed to in the borderlands and despite following Merlin, Arthur had not let his senses dull; he was always at least somewhat aware of where they were – and the only thing lying in the area was the city-fortress of King Vortigern. He had no illusions that he would be welcome there.

“I’m afraid that would be a lie,” Merlin answered, stopping and turning to face Arthur.

“Fine.” He sighed. “Then at least tell me why we are going there?”

Merlin shrugged, but his face was thoughtful. “Because the Lady told me to take you here. It’s part of your quest but that’s all I know.”

“Great. I guess running away from his guards will at least prove the swiftness of my legs.” Not that he would ever truly run from a conflict.

Merlin snickered and tried to unsuccessfully cover it up with a few very fake sounding coughs. “Ah. I can already attest that you’re a great deal slower than I.” Arthur almost protested, but shut his mouth mid-movement. Now that Merlin was finally saying more than one sentence at a time he didn’t want to interrupt. “What did you do to him?”

“I didn’t do anything. He wanted me to marry his daughter and I was already betrothed to Guinevere so father refused. Not that he would have consented anyway: the alliance would have given us nothing.” His father had told Vortigern as much and the man had left the castle cursing all the Pendragons to the deepest pits of hell. That had been the only thing his father had approved of about the man: he was a Christian.

“Yes, gods forbid if you were to marry someone without advantageous ties. Actually, I’m sure you could do better than Guinevere; after all she is only the daughter of King Leodogran’s sister. Not even a princess.” Rationally Arthur knew that Merlin was not truly insulting Guinevere, but he couldn’t quite help the clench of his teeth. She was noble, beautiful and kind with the blood of kings and queens. She would make a great queen one day.

“Yes, but her mother is and her father, Sir Bors, is brother to the King of Gaunnes, and was knighted by my father for his valour.  You insult her honour with your ignorance.” His voice was harsh but Merlin only smiled at him sadly.

“I don’t doubt she is a great lady. Morgana loves her dearly after all, as does her sister.  But you don’t love her.”

“My love for her is no lesser than that of Morgana’s,” he said quietly. He was lucky to have Guinevere and he knew it. He cared for her and she cared for him.

“But it’s also no more than that. You love her as a friend.”

“Life is no fairy tale. Very few can afford to find love.” He knew his parents had had that and in the back of his mind he could admit that he was jealous of it. But he had also seen how losing Igraine had changed his father. Love was a two-edged sword.

“And what if you marry her and fall in love with someone else?”

“That could never happen.” For the sakes of both Camelot and Guinevere.

Merlin took a step towards him but aborted the movement and shook his head slowly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Merlin clearly thought the whole thing was a much greater tragedy than it truly was. Even if things had been different Camelot would have always remained as his first lady.

Merlin was staring at him with a far too knowing look so Arthur simply lifted his chin and strode past him.

“Now that I have satisfied your girly curiosity can we please go and take care of our business in that rock pile,” he called over his shoulder.

He pretended not to hear the muffled “prat” from behind him.

 

xxx

 

Arthur took great satisfaction in seeing Merlin stumble under all of their gear. Arthur had insisted on the disguise of a travelling knight – which left Merlin the role of a squire or a servant. Merlin’s weak taunts about how Arthur couldn’t have pulled off anything other than an arrogant noble anyway because of his abysmal acting skills, had only left him smirking wider. The ruse had worked admirably though, for the guard at the gates hadn’t looked twice at them after they had introduced themselves as Sir Accolon and his squire Merlin.

“I know someone named Accolon, you know,” Merlin quipped as soon as they were well out of the guardsman hearing range.

“Yes, I suppose you would.” The real Sir Accolon was from a minor noble family Escetir and had come to Camelot to train as a knight. Unfortunately he had become infamous for his infatuation with Morgana on one of her visits to Camelot and had waxed terrible poetry about her ever since.

“It kind of suits you.”

“Wha–?” Arthur spluttered. “Merlin! I swear–” An angry shout cut him short. He sought out Merlin’s eyes and found them flashing golden.

For a moment he seemed to look straight through Arthur, before moving sharply forwards.

“This way!”

 

A small boy was lying hunched on the road, a tall man in uniform towering over him. He assessed the man quickly – his face had taken on an ugly sneer and Arthur could clearly see that this man thought very highly of himself. Merlin however didn’t even try to assess the situation before stumbling in head first. He shoved himself into the space between the man and the boy, forcing the man to take a step back. A look of complete outrage crossed his face and Arthur fought an urge to groan. Merlin had just managed to make the situation a hundred times worse.

Determinedly he yanked Merlin back.

“Help the boy and let me handle this – and don’t say a word,” he whispered furiously and to his relief Merlin backed down with a dark look. He schooled his own features into a diplomatic mask and made his voice pleasant.

“You must forgive my friend,” he said with a slight bow of his head – acknowledgement, nothing more. “He suffers from a severe mental affliction. Always running off to save cute little things. Once he almost drowned in a river when he tried to save an ant from the current. Can’t leave him though, promised his mother to look after him.” His smile was all teeth but unfortunately the man didn’t seem to understand the hint, reaching for his sword instead. Arthur straightened his shoulders just a bit, letting the movement reveal the sword on his belt. The man froze, licking his lips.

“Ah, such an unfortunate fate,” the man said eagerly, nodding to emphasize every word. “I’ll let it slide this time, but you should look after him better in the future.” At least the man seemed to have forgotten about the boy.

“I appreciate it, Sir–?”

“Captain Declan,” the man said, puffing his chest. A self-important fellow if Arthur had ever seen one.

“I thank you for you leniency, Captain,” he answered dismissively and watched with satisfaction as ‘Captain Declan’ couldn’t get any words out of his mouth to answer. With a last sharp smile he turned around to seek out Merlin.

He found him kneeling in front of the boy from the shadow of a market stall. An older woman, dressed in the apron of a baker was standing with her hand on the boy’s shoulder and smiling gratefully down at Merlin. It was a rather endearing picture and he felt his annoyance melt away. He even felt himself start to smile when the little boy noticed his approach and looked up at him with awe clearly in his eyes.

He gave him a small nod. “What happened here?”

“Kay, my son –” Arthur frowned mentally since the woman seemed more likely to be the boy’s grandmother than mother “– was helping me make deliveries and accidentally bumped into the captain. I was sure he was going to kill him.” The mother’s voice wavered and Kay hugged her leg tightly. Arthur looked at them carefully, took in their dirty clothes with faded symbols of protection and weary faces, and wondered how old Kay was. Maybe four or five, and already forced to help his mother. He didn’t need to think twice as he reached into his pocket and gave the mother two gold coins. Then he winked at Kay who was still staring at him with wide eyes and gave him a handful of silvers.

“Buy yourself something nice, yeah?” Kay beamed and bowed at him clumsily.

“Yes, my lord. Thank you! And thank you, Merlin.” Merlin, still crouched, smiled at Kay and his mother with a shake of his head.

“Anyone would have done the same. Take care.” He ruffled the boy’s head gently and waved a goodbye.

They were already turning to leave when the woman reached after them.

“Wait, I don’t even know your name,” she said, looking questioningly at Arthur.

He considered her for a while. She was clearly grateful and who would she even tell if she wanted to harm them? So he just shrugged and spoke in a low voice, “Prince Arthur of Camelot, at your service.”

Her mouth opened and closed once or twice and then she dropped a quick curtsy.

“Please, there is no need,” he said and to his horror found his cheeks warming up. “Just use the money wisely and keep your son out of trouble.”

 

Merlin kept smiling at him like a cat with a cup of cream. They were walking towards the inner fortress, exchanging a couple of good natured comments here and there. Every time Arthur looked at Merlin’s face he had to stop whatever he’d been saying and look away before starting from the beginning. It was a very disconcerting look.

“So, do you have any idea what you’re supposed to do here?” Merlin asked as they took in the courtyard from the shadows of the arcs circling it.

The thing was that he did have an idea. The protection symbols sewed onto the clothes of the peasants had tugged at something in his memory. The legend was that the fortress was cursed.

“I might,” he said slowly. “How much do you know about curses?” Like for example about breaking them, he added in his mind.

Merlin’s expression was puzzled. “Well, they are mostly superstition. Lasting curses take a lot of power. I don’t think there has been one since the fae folk cursed King Dilwyn to dream about his own death every night after he tried to abduct a fae woman. There are smaller ones from time to time but they don’t usually cause lasting damage because they wear off within hours or a couple of days. Why do you ask?”

“There are rumours that this place is cursed and that the ground shakes every time the sun reaches its peak.“ Merlin looked doubtful. “But I guess you magic folk would know if that was the case.”

“Hey!” Merlin said, indignant. “Magic folk my arse, we are not some strange species different from the rest of you, you know!”

“Seem plenty strange to me…” he muttered under his breath.

“But,” Merlin continued with a glare, “yes, it’s highly unlikely that we wouldn’t know. Doesn’t mean it can’t be something else magical though.”

“Well then, I guess we will know tomorrow at noon.” He gave Merlin his most charming smile and to his delight Merlin gave him an exasperated one in return. He felt surprisingly warm in the chill of the autumn night.

 

**Chapter 7**

 

Merlin had told him that this was a Very Bad Idea and Arthur was starting to agree with him a little. At least it was probably not his best idea, especially when he had resolved to avoid anyone from the court who might recognise him. But even Merlin should have admitted that looking for clues while they waited for noon to come was the only logical course of action. It wasn’t like he could have known that every step of the way for people wanting to see the court would be guarded, making sneaking away impossible. Yet Merlin kept giving him a very pointed look and Arthur could almost hear the “I told you so”. Luckily Merlin at least had the brains to stay silent as he focused on making himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Vortigern was sitting on the throne at the other end of hall. He was not a young man and he had a son and daughter about Arthur’s age to prove it, but he looked like a warrior. His face was weathered, dark with stubble, but still sharp and his body was lithe. His clothes were clearly expensive but not excessive – they wouldn’t restrict his movement if he wanted to pick up the sword resting against his legs. It was clear that he was more of a warlord than a civilised king, which was rather ironic when taking into account his obvious fondness for the Roman religion.

Merlin seemed more interested in the tapestries hanging on the walls. Arthur rolled his eyes. They did have rather beautiful pictures of dragons and the crosses were decorated skilfully, certainly, but he would have thought that there were a bit more pressing matters at hand. Then again, this wasn’t Merlin’s quest.

There was one petitioner, one punishment for adultery and then the guard captain from the day before stepped forward, followed by two other guards and a boy – Kay. Arthur’s heart froze and he felt Merlin’s body tense next to him. Discreetly he found Merlin’s wrist and squeezed it tightly as warning. They didn’t know why the boy was here.

The captain bowed deeply before gesturing at the boy.

“I accuse this boy, Kay son of Heddwen, of thievery. Yesterday, he bumped into me on the street and later a helpful citizen alerted me to the fact that the boy had bought a great number of sweets even though he could usually only afford one.” He paused dramatically and Arthur thanked the gods that the idiots hadn’t searched them for weapons. His sword was still under his cloak. “And alas – when I searched for my purse I found it missing.”

At this point Kay tried to throw himself at the man, hissing like a cat but the guards held him back.

“Liar! It was a gift!” he seethed, still struggling.

Vortigern rose slowly from his seat, fiddling with the handle of his sword.

“You accuse him of lying but do you have any proof? Do you know what the punishment is for thievery, Kay?” Kay shook his head. “The loss of the hand that steals.” A squeak. “But I’m willing to be lenient for you are just a child. I’ll only cut off one of your fingers if you cannot prove yourself innocent and confess what you did.”

Really, there was only one thing Arthur could do. He stepped forwards, the crowd parting for him with surprised murmurs.

“I gave him that money,” he said, voice ringing out in the hall. He didn’t look at Vortigern and let his hair shadow his face.

The guards had let go of Kay in their surprise and his mother was there in a flash, drawing the boy into the crowd. The captain let out a growl, but Arthur turned to face Vortigern fully before the captain had time to give any orders. Their gazes met and he was recognized immediately.

“Seize this man!” Vortigern bellowed, and the guards turned to him in confusion. Resigned, he drew his sword. Why did nothing in his life ever go smoothly? The guards charged towards him and he tensed his muscles in anticipation. He just hoped that nobody would remember Kay after this – and then the men froze in mid movement. They didn’t simply stop attacking but literally froze in positions that should have been impossible to maintain. He whirled around. Merlin had stepped out of the crowd, eyes golden. He looked at Arthur, and spoke a string of words which sent a warm tingle through him.

“You may not touch him. He has my protection, and anyone who tries to harm him shall experience pain beyond imagination.” Merlin’s voice was dark, ringing from the walls, cowing the people under it. He even looked tall and menacing. Arthur realised he was holding his breath and forced himself to inhale. He looked back to Vortigern, who looked completely outraged, and smirked. A sorcerer really was a handy companion.

The motion was almost invisible and Arthur nearly missed it. Merlin did, or didn’t understand its implications.

Arthur barely had time to shout “Duck!” before Merlin went down, an arrow sticking out of his right shoulder unnaturally. The crowd, which had been shocked quiet, erupted into shouts and panic. Arthur shouted with them, throwing himself at Merlin’s side. He cradled Merlin’s head in his lap, but the only response he got was a fluttering of eyelashes. Arthur forced himself to look at the wound clinically. It wasn’t deadly, provided it would get treated.

“Now.” Vortigern wasn’t speaking loudly but in the empty silence left by the escaping people his voice sounded loud and clear to Arthur. “What do you say about surrendering and we make sure your sorcerer friend gets treated. I’m sure your father would pay handsomely for the both of you.” Arthur knew he would, at least for him, but if Vortigern really thought that Uther Pendragon wouldn’t destroy him like a fly under his thumb the second he had Arthur back he was delusional. He was in no hurry to die though, so he nodded mutely.

He stayed silent as the guards put Merlin’s hands in cold iron manacles and lifted him from the floor. He stayed silent as they dragged him into a dark cell and locked the door after him. When he was alone he screamed with rage.

 

**Chapter 8**

 

As far as dungeons went Vortigern’s were rather average. Maybe dryer than most because of the surrounding desert, but dark and unpleasant in any case. The walls were made of stone, but the inside was laced with heavy plates of cold iron. Vortigern clearly wasn’t a friend of the Old Religion.

His thoughts fled to Merlin. He was quite sure that Vortigern wouldn’t throw away an extra captive for nothing, but there was always a chance he would die of something else. Like the arrow wound. He had no idea how much the binding of his magic affected Merlin. Some sorcerers were barely affected but he had seen others wilt away like a flower without water when cut off from their powers. He tried to convince himself that there was no reason to think that Merlin belonged to the latter, rarer group.

He rose from the floor with a jerk and started pacing, focusing on evaluating the different ways his father could react when he got the news that Arthur had managed to get captured. He scowled and kept his father’s face in his mind. Worrying about Merlin wasn’t going to help anyone.

He was still on his feet when the shaking began. It seemed to start gently from the floor, accelerating and gaining power, before surging through the constructions of the fortress with a frightening force that made Arthur drop to the ground without hesitation. It continued for a couple of heartbeats and then quieted with a final thud.

He was still lying on the floor, catching his breath and trying to collect his thoughts, when the narrow door to his cell opened.

“Seems like the mighty Prince of Camelot has lost his feet,” Vortigern said, giving him a light shove with his boot.

Arthur snarled and threw himself towards the man. He was sure he would have gotten to the dagger on Vortigern’s belt if his hands hadn’t been bound. As it was the guard that had appeared in the door after his lord forced him to his knees without much trouble. He couldn’t force Arthur to lower his head though.

Vortigern just chuckled at him darkly.

“I think we have things to discuss.”

“I can’t imagine there is anything I would like to say to you,” he said coldly.

“I don’t need you to like it.”

 

xxx

 

While Vortigern certainly didn’t need Arthur to like it, what he did need was someone willing to torture him. He had been lifted to the manacles hanging from the wall and after his initial irritation he watched with fascination as three guards tried desperately to come up with arguments as to why someone else should be the one to touch Arthur. Vortigern’s face was turning darker by the second and he finally exploded after one of the guards proposed a game dice.

“You,” he snapped, pointing to the closest man, “are going to do it. Now.”

The man stuttered. “But, my lord, the sorcerer said–”

“The sorcerer is unconscious.” Alive, Arthur’s mind supplied with relief, but then Vortigern turned towards him.

“Of course, no torture is necessary if you answer my questions.” Arthur was rather sure that the question didn’t even warrant an answer. Even the weakest lasted past this point so he just rolled his eyes.

Vortigern didn’t seem surprised. “Oh, well. When you feel like talking the first thing I want to know is your father’s plans concerning the wastelands.” He glared at the man who was fiddling with a knife nervously.

“Begin.”

Arthur really hoped that Merlin’s spell held but braced himself against the pain nevertheless. His only comfort was that he didn’t think they would want to risk maiming him permanently.

The knife came to rest on his collarbone, but for a heartbeat nothing happened. He opened his eyes and regarded the man in front of him. Clearly he was no real soldier, his bearing and unkempt hair making an outlaw or peasant much more likely. He must have read some of the contempt on his face for as soon as their eyes met the man narrowed his eyes and let the knife bite in.

At the same moment the man screamed, dropping the knife and crumbling to the floor, body convulsing. Arthur could see the whites of his eyes flashing from under his rapidly moving eyelids as the man’s body curved into impossible angles again and again, his scream turning into an animalistic wail.

Nobody in the room dared to take their eyes off of the man and his twisted dance. It even unnerved Arthur and he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Merlin had done. Hopefully nothing irreversible.

When the convulsions stopped the sobbing man was carried out of the cell and Arthur was left hanging on the wall. Even Vortigern didn’t seem to want to look at him, let alone touch him. He reminded himself that in the end he was glad. He also couldn’t help but wonder how big his debt to Merlin already was.

 

After a while he fell into some kind of haze. His hands ached and he couldn’t quite keep his thoughts in order. He didn’t hear the cell door open again, but he did register a shadow tumbling through it. For a second he hoped it was Merlin, but then he took in the proportions of the man’s body. They were all wrong. The stranger even had longer hair and, as he turned to look at Arthur, he saw the stubble on his cheeks. Definitely not Merlin then.

“Wakey, wakey, Princess,” the man said in a voice far too loud for the dungeons. Arthur couldn’t quite help the grimace.

The man clearly noticed for he walked closer to Arthur and lowered his voice to a whisper.

“My name is Gwaine, and the rats –” he nodded towards the door “– sent me to ferret out your secrets. Also gave me a key to your shackles.” And with that he crowded into Arthur’s personal space, ignoring his growl.

To his surprise Arthur felt the shackles fall open, finally allowing his blood to flow properly into his hands. He eyed Gwaine warily.

“Why would they give you the key?”

Gwaine grinned wolfishly. “Well, they did send me in to gain your trust and secrets, you know. But I don’t really fancy dealing with arrogant nobles so I might have just snatched them myself.”

Maybe he should have stayed home, because the world was clearly full of completely crazy people.  He stared Gwaine for a while before nodding slowly.

“Of course.”

“You’re a noble yourself though, but I figured you probably couldn’t be worse than these guys so I might as well help you.” Seriously, the man looked far too carefree for someone who had just been thrown into dungeons. Maybe he was some sort of hardened criminal, so used to cells and dungeons that his wits had left him. Not very wise either if he thought these men represented nobility. The only nobles here were Vortigern’s family and even they were just children the of bastards.

“These men are not part of the real nobility,” he pointed out sharply, which earned him a distasteful look.

“If you tell me you’re one of those people who thinks a person’s value is in a piece of paper proving their parentage I’m leaving you here to rot.” That was most definitely not what Arthur had been saying but he decided to keep his mouth shut about the subject. He needed to get out, and if this madman was going to help him he wasn’t going to sabotage that. There was also Merlin to think of.

“No. But there is someone I need to save.”

Gwaine’s eyes swept over him thoughtfully, but he didn’t appear exactly surprised. Arthur had a feeling he already knew about Merlin. Which only made sense.

“Oh? Did you lose your prince charming?” The man was infuriating but Arthur managed to only grit his teeth.

“No– Merlin is–”

Gwaine interrupted him with an almost gentle “I know,” which Arthur sincerely doubted since he didn’t quite know himself; a friend, a guide, just essential?

“It’s your lucky day. I know where the sick prisoners are kept.” He walked to the door and peered into the hallway. “We need to wait until the night guards are deep into their cups before we try to get out, though. And that’s hours away yet so rest, Princess.”

“I could have you killed for those insults,” Arthur said mildly.

“Right now you couldn’t, so suck it up.”

“I wouldn’t need a weapon to kill you,” he replied but sucked it up anyway and tried to find a comfortable position against the wall. He had probably slept in worse conditions. A nasty bump in the stone dug into his back and he twitched to avoid it. Scratch that, he had never tried to rest, let alone sleep in such an uncomfortable place, but he was sure he could manage. If he thought he heard an amused chuckle from Gwaine’s direction he was certain he had imagined it.

 

**Chapter 9**

 

Gwaine had been right for it didn’t take long for the voices of the night guards to turn loud and slurring.

“When do you think they are going to be out?” Arthur asked.

Gwaine looked at him, amused, and ran his hand through his hair. Arthur would have bet a lot of money that if the guards had been women Gwaine could have just made them swoon. Actually, it might have worked on men as well, at least as a distraction.

“Nah,” Gwaine drawled. “This is probably as drunk as they get. Not completely irresponsible, you know?”

“But–”

“We just need their judgement impaired.” He winked, completely ignoring Arthur’s glare. “Watch.”

He walked to the door and casually sneaked his hand out from between the bars and slotted the key into the lock. It clicked open obediently, and most importantly quietly, but Gwaine didn’t open the door. Instead he hid the key back in his tunic and waved to the guards.

“Hey! I have important information for the king!”

Gwaine hadn’t given him any clues but Arthur flattened himself against the wall next the door all the same. Whatever Gwaine’s exact plan was he doubted that it would help if the guards realised that Arthur was no longer chained.

“Well, what issit?” demanded one of the guards, slurring slightly.

“I’m not telling before I get out of this cell,” answered Gwaine cheerfully.

He had clearly been right about the impaired judgement for the guard didn’t protest but, by the clanking Arthur was hearing, started to look for the right key. Arthur saw Gwaine tense and prepared himself as well. He hated not knowing what was going on. A thorough plan was necessary for safe and efficient execution, and even if Gwaine had a proper plan, which he doubted, Arthur was still working blind.

When the key scraped against the lock Gwaine suddenly yanked the door, sending the startled guard falling forwards. Gwaine leaped over him with a shove, and Arthur sprang forward to deliver a precise hit to the guard’s neck. He went down without a sound and stayed there.

When Arthur had made sure that the guard was really unconscious he lifted his head to see that the other guard was lying on the floor as well, Gwaine crouching down over him. Cautiously Arthur stepped out of the cell, scanning the hallway, though tunnel might have been a more apt description. Arthur could see no sign of anyone else and glanced back at Gwaine.

“What?” he hissed when he saw the bloody dagger and slit throat that Gwaine’s body had blocked earlier. “There was no reason to kill him!”

Gwaine glanced at him darkly. “Dead men stay quiet, princess, and we don’t want to alert anyone.”

Arthur found himself re-evaluating the situation quickly. Gwaine was clearly nowhere near as harmless as Arthur had first thought. There was a suffocating darkness hiding beneath his cheery exterior, but Arthur didn’t really have a choice about following him. Gwaine knew where Merlin, to whom he owed his life, was, and he strongly suspected that he was already far too deeply in Gwaine’s debt as well. Owing other people and being dependant on them wasn’t really a feeling Arthur was accustomed to and it left his neck prickling unpleasantly. Yet, when Gwaine took a step towards the other guard Arthur had to interfere.

“No. We gag him and lock the cell, but there is no reason to kill him.”

Arthur was relieved when Gwaine didn’t argue.

 

xxxx

 

They sneaked through the hallways quietly, Arthur behind Gwaine, hand firmly on the handle of the dagger they had retrieved from the other guard. He half-expected Gwaine to turn around and try to kill him in some dark corner but instead he didn’t glance back at Arthur once.

After a sharp turn Gwaine stopped abruptly, leaving Arthur to narrowly avoid running straight into his back. He pointed to the wooden door some feet away.

“There,” he whispered. “There is likely a guard inside, but the physician should have retired by now. Ready?” Arthur nodded and they slid to the door carefully.

Gwaine had pulled his dagger out of his belt. There was a bloodstain on his trousers where the blade had touched them, though it was barely visible amongst the dark brown colour and other dark stains. His grip on the dagger wasn’t that of someone used to holding a sword but was perfectly balanced for the smaller blade. It was wrong, and Arthur leaped forwards, trying to push into the room first, but Gwaine was faster, the door open and the dagger buried in the wide-eyed guard in a blink.

Arthur kicked the door shut and eyed Gwaine warily. He longed to look around, to try and locate Merlin but he didn’t dare look away. This man was a trained killer and not the kind Arthur was, a warrior, but one that sneaked in the shadows without honour.

Gwaine looked at him and sighed. “Princess, I’m helping you because I know Merlin. Without me you cannot get out and whatever else I’m doing is no concern to you.” He walked to the guard and tugged the dagger free from his shoulder. The guard whimpered like a young boy and Arthur tried not to see how young he had really been.

“See, I even left him alive. But we have no time to waste – we need to go now. So pick Merlin up and follow!” He pointed to the back of the room and Arthur’s eyes followed almost against his will, peering into the corner. There was a duvet on the floor, and from the sea of blankets he could make out a mop of dark hair.

He didn’t turn his back to Gwaine completely and his hand stayed on his dagger. But in truth all of his attention was focused on Merlin who hadn’t so as much as stirred when they had burst in. Carefully, he knelt and lifted the blankets.

The wound had been treated and bound and there was no smell of rotting flesh to indicate infection and most importantly Merlin was breathing. But he also looked weak, his wrists tightly bound together by chains of cold iron, and his skin was an almost greenish shade of white. He had only his pants on so Arthur simply draped the blanket around him and lifted, thanking the gods that Merlin was very light for a grown man.

But even if Merlin wasn’t exactly heavy there was no chance of Arthur actually moving quickly or gracefully while carrying him. They had barely gotten out of the room when the bells rang out, the noise deafening in the hallways. Merlin didn’t even flutter an eyelash.

There was no way they could actually escape the dungeons now.

“We need to hide,” Arthur mouthed to Gwaine, who was frowning thoughtfully, but nodded to show that he had understood. He seemed to ponder something for a second longer before beckoning Arthur into the narrowing hallway.

When Arthur rounded the corner he thought they had reached a dead end. From where he was he could see only two crude pillars and a smooth wall but Gwaine didn’t seem concerned and indeed when they got nearer Arthur could see that there was a tunnel starting from the shadow of the other pillar. It was too rough and narrow to be an actually intended part of the fortress, yet it didn’t feel completely abandoned either. He couldn’t quite figure out why he got that feeling for he was a little preoccupied with trying to keep Merlin securely in his arms without bumping him into any uneven and possibly sharp surfaces. And the tunnel was getting darker. For a moment Arthur thought that the darkness would force them to stop but just as moving started to become impossible some light managed to weasel its way down to them.

The cave was huge. Both the bottom, somewhere below their ledge, and the roof were beyond their sight. Exhausted, Arthur carefully placed Merlin against a nook in the wall. The blueish, unnatural light of the cave made him look like a ghost and Arthur’s hands almost unconsciously sought out his wrist to take his pulse. He flinched at the freezing touch of the cold iron bands and moved his hand to Merlin’s neck. The beat was there, if a little faint, but definitely there.

Gwaine knelt beside him, frowning first at the bands and then at the key set in his hands.

“I don’t have the right key.”

The keys looked crude and huge compared to the almost delicate bands. It was obvious that the two didn’t go together.

“And we need to get him out of them.”

Apparently Gwaine thought he was stupid, or else he just really enjoyed making useless statements. It grated his already pinched nerves. He knew, he understood – he wasn’t bloody stupid.

“No, really?” he snapped.

“Yes, really,” Gwaine answered in a long suffering voice, which just wasn’t fair since Arthur was clearly the suffering half here, and cradled Merlin’s face tenderly.

Arthur wanted to protest as Gwaine bent to murmur something quietly in Merlin’s ear. They had no time for this. They needed to get Merlin awake if they wanted to get him out of here alive.

 

 

**Chapter 10**

 

He didn’t think he would fail the quest if Merlin didn’t return with him, but the thought itself was unbearable. He would never have left anyone willingly behind, but he owed Merlin his life and so much more that he knew he was actually physically incapable of continuing alone. He squeezed Merlin’s hand tightly under the blankets.

There was a tug at his tunic. Gwaine’s eyes were huge, but he wasn’t looking at Arthur but at something behind him. Arthur felt his own eyes widening in alarm. If Gwaine was looking like that– Carefully he extracted his hand from Merlin’s, who let out a quiet whine. Suddenly Arthur hoped that Merlin would remain oblivious for a while longer.

He turned slowly, using every bit of his warrior discipline to control his movements, but he couldn’t help leaping to his feet when he saw what was staring at them from the dark.

Its black claws were biting into the stone where it was resting and watching them with its blue eyes, long, graceful neck bent down, white scales gaining a faint blue glint in the light. Arthur stared at it, unable and unwilling to look away, and it stared back, just as unmovingly, apart from the tail which he could see swishing slowly behind it.

“Gwaine?” he whispered quietly when the dragon blinked lazily.

“Yea?”

“Ideas?”

“No.”

He sighed and very slowly dropped into a crouch, risking a quick glance at Merlin’s pale face. They couldn’t run with Merlin, but maybe they could manage to lift him slowly and back carefully away. At least it was a better bet than fighting the dragon with their daggers. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he could count on Gwaine not to bolt. The man had been very helpful so far but helping strangers usually had some limits – like facing dragons. Though Gwaine had indicated that he actually knew Merlin, that was hardly enough information for Arthur to put his trust in him.

He gave a few simple hand-signals behind his back: “that way”, “slowly” and “help” with a pointed finger in Merlin’s direction. He couldn’t see if Gwaine gave any response because he was still watching the dragon, but he heard a faint rustle of movement and a faint whimper from Merlin. The dragon jerked its head backwards with a hiss.

Arthur jumped to his feet and with Gwaine’s help heaved Merlin up. To hell with stealth. But as they turned around towards the tunnel they froze. Gwaine cursed. Maybe fifty feet away from them, only ten from the mouth of the tunnel, was another dragon. This one, with scales of deep red, seemed much larger and most importantly much closer. And it was watching them with clear intent.

“ _Emrys._ ” It was a deep rumble, a resonation that went through Arthur, leaving him unsure whether the sound had come from outside or inside his mind.

Merlin stirred and Arthur watched with terrified fascination as Merlin’s eyes snapped wide open. He dropped to his own feet and shrugged off Arthur’s and Gwaine’s supporting hands.

“ _Y Ddraig Goch,_ ” he said in a booming voice that sounded like it was ripping his throat apart. The red dragon blinked at them and Arthur, the freezing hands of panic easing on his throat enough to allow a whisper of hysteria, thought that it looked almost amused.

“ _Y Ddraig Wen,_ ” Merlin continued, nodding to the white dragon.

“ _Emrysss_ ,” it answered with a long hiss which seemed both disgruntled and intrigued. “ _In your shadow walks a dark fate, though hope still walks with it_.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin’s voice had returned to almost normal, a little scratchy and weak, but much more human.

“ _The dreams of the seers are of darkness and gold, but with the gold is my doom_.”

“ _Fates are what they are and what they will be_ ,” the red dragon interrupted. “ _But you, Emrys, appear to need a favour unless it is your intention to let those bands kill you_.”

“Can you help me?” Merlin swayed and both Arthur and Gwaine startled forward to steady him.

“ _As the sun is at its highest in the sky and calls to our power we can break the enchantments of cold iron. But in return you must free us, for far too long have these caves been our prison_.”

“We will,” Arthur said immediately and Merlin echoed him with a quiet please.

“ _So it shall be. But midday is still far away_ ,” the dragon said with a chuckle. “ _Rest_.”

The air barely moved as it spread its wings and dropped down into the depths of the cave. The white dragon didn’t move.

Quietly they supported Merlin back into the corner. His eyelids were half-closed and Arthur was afraid he would pass out again, but as they sat down Merlin’s eyes zeroed onto Gwaine and narrowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Arthur watched with fascination how Gwaine squirmed before seeming to shrink into an entirely innocent expression. “Just passing by.”

“You’re still doing it aren’t you?”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then a whispered “yes”.

Merlin pursed his lips in displeasure. “I didn’t take you to them to make you their tool. So you’re here to kill Vortigern?” Arthur startled despite himself. It hadn’t been a great leap to see that Gwaine was an assassin and probably also a spy, but the thought of someone just murdering a king–.

“He’s been judged unjust. The Old Religion doesn’t care what god he serves, but he is actively hunting practitioners of the Old Religion. They – we – cannot let it to go on.”

Arthur shivered. The Old Religion had judged Vortigern to be a king who no longer ruled with justice. Arthur shivered and thought about his father on his cold throne, bearing a cross and frowning more and more on the old ways. But his father was just and gave the Old Religion his respect. Arthur wouldn’t have been here otherwise.

“I see,” Merlin answered quietly after a while. “But I still wish it wouldn’t have to be you.”

“But I’m perfect. The mysterious bastard son of King Lot, interesting, but not important. See how easily I saved you? Just told Vortigern that Princess here would confide in me and he didn’t even think twice about letting me into the cells.”

Gwaine. Gawain of Orkney. Of bloody course. He groaned and both Merlin and Gwaine whipped around to stare at him like they had forgotten his existence.

“Arthur? Are you alright?” Merlin asked with concern, though he himself looked ready to pass out.

“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “Gawain of Orkney and Emrys. I think you owe me some explanations.”

“I think you pretty much got far more than you needed to from that conversation,” said Gwaine wryly.

“Just– How do you know each other? Why do people call you Emrys?”

Gwaine and Merlin looked at each other and Gwaine shrugged.

“Well, you know I got sent away from Orkney. Your dear cousin Morgause didn’t want me around when she married Lot and he cast me out without second thought to please her. I got into trouble, met Merlin, we became –”

“Gwaine,” Merlin hissed, which got him a grin that was no longer apologetic in the slightest.

“– close friends. He took me to the druids, but as I didn’t exactly have potential to become a druid, I put my talents to other uses. Mostly spying, sometimes this.”

“Ah,” Arthur said cleverly. “And Emrys?”

“Ah,” Merlin echoed, looking pained. “It’s a title.”

“For the most powerful sorcerer alive,” added Gwaine making Merlin wince.

Arthur almost laughed, almost brushed it off as a joke. Even though Merlin’s magic was obviously a great part of him, the thought of Merlin, gangly and almost childish, as the most powerful sorcerer in – what, Britannia? the world? – was almost ridiculous. But Merlin was staring at him with large, earnest eyes glazed with fever and Arthur couldn’t help but turn away.

“The dragon told you to rest.”

Neither Gwaine nor Merlin made further comment, and Arthur very resolutely focused his gaze on the sleek form of the white dragon, for all appearances now asleep.

 

**Chapter 11**

 

As midday neared there was gradually more and more light in the caves. The blue of twilight didn’t give away completely but Arthur was actually able to take in some uninteresting details of his stony surroundings. Merlin was barely conscious, at times muttering quietly and sometimes falling completely silent and still for long periods of time that made Arthur fear he would not pull through.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly and finally he started to focus on Gwaine, who was speaking quietly to Merlin. To his surprise Gwaine was talking about his half-brothers. His tone was fond as he told Merlin about the things Gaheris had written to him. Arthur had been in the belief that the brothers had never met. Gaheris was only ten, hardly old enough to ride out of the castle without guards, and Gareth and Mordred were even younger. Yet he didn’t interrupt, but listened to how Mordred had fallen off his new pony and how Gareth had spilled his cup straight onto Morgause’s dress during a feast. Gwaine seemed especially delighted about the latter incident and Arthur couldn’t deny that in more favourable circumstances he would have probably laughed heartily. As it was there was a small tug at the corners of his mouth.

The dragons appeared far more stealthily than should have been possible considering their size. Arthur had been ready to write the first time off as a fluke, but now that the two dragons were just suddenly standing on the narrow ledge with them, he wondered nervously if it really was just about his exhausted senses.

“ _Step back_ ,” the red dragon said and slowly they obeyed.

“Take the blanket away.” Arthur frowned, but Gwaine went dutifully back to Merlin and unwrapped him gently. Merlin didn’t seem to be aware of the proceedings around him. He blinked once as Gwaine laid his bare skin to the cold stone but he didn’t move or let out a sound. He looked small, all his bones sticking out and his skin an unhealthy shade. The red dragon sniffed him once and turned to look at the white one. It occurred to Arthur that he had never heard them to talk directly to each other. Then the white dragon breathed fire on Merlin.

A startled sound escaped his throat but before he could move, though he wasn’t quite sure what he could have done anyway, Gwaine’s hand was on his shoulder.

“It’s not hurting him,” he whispered into Arthur’s ear.

Gwaine was right; the white fire engulfing Merlin didn’t actually seem to be touching him. Only the cold iron was reacting. It was shimmering brightly in all the colours of the rainbow, gradually getting brighter and brighter until it suddenly shattered into countless shiny dust particles. The fire ceased almost immediately and Merlin drew in a deep, ragged breath, loud in the deathly silence. When he pushed himself up Gwaine was at his side in an instant.

 

xxx

 

“ _It will be a while before his strength has completely returned. I suggest you seek some supplies from the city_ ,” the red dragon said to Arthur, which was how he found himself venturing deeper into the caves, hopefully towards an exit outside the city. Merlin had also magicked him a disguise. He had claimed to be too weak to do a proper transformation spell so he had performed a charm that made him look old. He couldn’t see it himself, but judging by Gwaine’s and Merlin’s sniggers he suspected he didn’t look terribly majestic either. He rather thought that there were bound to be other not-too-draining disguising charms which weren’t quite this ridiculous, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to say that to Merlin’s pale face.

The guards barely gave him a second glance when he entered the city and he had no problem buying food and some clothes for Merlin with the money Vortigern’s men had conveniently failed to remove when they had thrown him into the cell. Unfortunately the first glance the guards had given him when he entered had been enough for as he was about to leave one of them stopped him.

“Hey, you! Didn’t you just come in?” The guard eyed him suspiciously. “Where do you live, grandpa? Seems an awful lot of trouble to come here to just to buy a few essentials.”

For a moment Arthur just stared them blankly, evaluating the situation. The men were young and he probably couldn’t outrun them completely, but he did have his dagger and he had a relatively good chance of driving it home a couple of times before anyone had time to react. The image of the young guard lying dead in the dungeons made his decision. So instead of reaching for the dagger, he hunched his shoulder and leaned forward a little, cupping his hand to his ear.

“Speak up, boy!” he barked haughtily. “And show some respect!” he added for a good measure.

“Where are you headed?”

Arthur nodded his head slowly.

“Ah yes. Out of this city, of course, if you gentlemen were to move out of the way,” he lifted his eyebrow meaningfully, hoping he looked just as mad as he felt. “Then I walk over hills and around hills, past a tree or two, take a turn and another, and hopefully end up home.”

The guard he was staring at looked somewhat bewildered.

“But where is home?”

“What kind of question is that? Home is where you live, sleep and eat. Where else? Have you lost yours?”

“Wha–?” The guard cast a pleading gaze to his companions. “No! The question is where you are taking that food and why you came this far to get it.”

“Loot? This is no loot; I just brought it with my very own coin from the market there. The young lady who sold it was really lovely, reminded me of my childhood sweetheart. Do you know, I remember it like yesterday–”

“Oh, bugger off,” the guard said with a pained groan.

Arthur grinned to himself. He knew from his own personal experience that there was nothing more horrid than listening to old men tell tales about the sweethearts of their boyhood. The only difference was that he couldn’t tell them to bugger off and actually had to listen to them.

 

xxx

 

Merlin brightened noticeably at the sight of food and he almost tore the clothes from Arthur’s hands.

“Turn away,” he demanded.

“Nothing we haven’t seen before,” Gwaine said, waggling his eyebrows.

“Gwaine!” Merlin screeched and turned a fascinating shade of red. “I’m going to drop this blanket in five seconds and if you’re not facing away by then I’m going to turn you into a toad.”

Gwaine lifted his hands in surrender and turned away and Arthur hastily followed his example.

 

The dragons seemed to watch every move they made as they ate the food Arthur had brought. Merlin seemed to remain blissfully oblivious or was just feigning indifference very convincingly. Gwaine was clearly trying to ignore them but the occasional quick glance gave him away. Arthur didn’t bother trying and watched back openly. The dragons needed them to get out and they clearly held some sort of respect for Merlin, though there was a small voice inside his head wondering how long it had been since they had last eaten.

Luckily the dragons’ hunger seemed to be only for freedom. They circled close to Merlin with keen gazes without letting out any sound. Eventually it was Gwaine who snapped.

“So, what do you need us to do to get you out?”

The white dragon almost purred. “ _We need you, Emrysss, to blast open the tunnel the Golden Prince used to escape to the city_.”

“And why can’t you do it yourself?”

“ _It is cold there, deep under the stone, far away from the sun. Our fire dies in our bellies, and though midday gives us some power it is not enough_.”

“So that’s why the ground shakes at midday. It’s you trying to break out,” Arthur interrupted.

“ _Yesss, clever prince_ ,” the white dragon answered mockingly. Gwaine muttered something uncomplimentary about sarcastic dragons.

“ _You owe us our freedom, so give it to us_ ,” the red dragon added, again seeming to ignore the other one.

There was one question Arthur had to ask though. If he was to be responsible for the freeing of the dragons he needed to know he wasn’t also unleashing a scourge upon his people.

“Do you promise to never bring harm to any humans?”

“ _You gave us your word regardless, and if I were you, Arthur Pendragon, I would keep it_ ,” the red dragon said sharply.

“I will keep my word. But I would ask your word in return.”

“ _And what if the humans attack us? May we not defend ourselves?_ ” the white dragon added, sounding absolutely venomous.

A part of Arthur wanted to say no. People might act hostile out of fear but he couldn’t believe they actually posed any threat to the dragons. But the gleam in the dragons’ eyes told him that a ‘no’ wasn’t an option.

“Of course,” Merlin chimed in before Arthur had time to formulate an answer. “But you cannot harm innocents.”

“ _Then, Emryss, you have my word that I shall not harm innocents_ ,” the red dragon said.

 “ _And mine_ ,” the white dragon conceded.

Merlin smiled brilliantly. “Excellent. I think I have regained most of my strength, so how about we get out then?”

 

**Chapter 12**

 

Merlin regarded the narrow passage with a puzzled expression. The dragons, standing in the wider part just behind them were shifting restlessly, and Gwaine looked nervous.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Merlin said after a while.

“Tell me you are not serious,” Arthur huffed. There were two impatient dragons standing behind them and Merlin didn’t know how to bloody ‘do this’.

“Well excuse me,” Merlin snapped. “Would mister stuck up royal arse maybe tell me how to use my magic to safely break these dragons out?”

“You’re supposed to be the magic expert. Can’t you just, I don’t know, widen the tunnel?” Arthur shrugged helplessly.

“Because I totally have a spell for widening tunnels memorised for just this kind of situation.”

“Children!” Gwaine interrupted. “Princess, you shut up because you know nothing about magic.” Arthur gave him a deadly glare, which Gwaine once again ignored. “Merlin, can’t you just blast the tunnel wider? I know you at least have enough raw power.”

Merlin bit his lower lip worriedly. “I think so. But I’m not sure if it’s safe.”

“Well, unless you have better ideas I suggest you do it. Based on the time the dragons have tried to break out of here without success, it’s pretty stable. And I’m sure you can get us safely out even if it comes to the worst,” Gwaine said with a crooked grin and Arthur found himself nodding at Merlin in agreement.

“I guess there is no other choice. Stay back,” Merlin said with a sigh and lifted his arms. For a moment he was completely still. Arthur couldn’t see his face but he imagined it was pinched with concentration. Then Merlin let out a litany of strange words in a low voice. Arthur’s skin tingled faintly and he had a moment to wonder if this really was a good idea when a blinding light shot out of Merlin’s hands. He had to bring his own hands up to shield his eyes and automatically braced himself against an impact which never came.

“That went well,” said Merlin’s cheerful voice and he opened his eyes only to find a wide passageway straight to the waste opening before him.

There was a roar from behind them and they ducked just in time, Merlin prompted by Gwaine’s tackle, to avoid the dragons jumping over them and speeding to the entrance. As soon as they were out they opened their wings and leapt to the sky, the red one following the white one.

Slowly they all stood up, Merlin supported by Gwaine, and stared after the dragons in silence. It was kind of amazing, Arthur supposed, to have given freedom to such a rare, though terrifying, beauty. His thoughts went to the unicorn and it occurred to him that without that accident he would have thought about them as a hunting prize. Now he couldn’t.

Suddenly the stone above them rumbled ominously. He exchanged an alarmed look with Gwaine. He wasn’t sure Merlin, who was obviously tired, leaning on Gwaine’s side, could actually protect them if the stone around them decided to collapse. Quickly he hurried to support Merlin from the other side.

“Run,” was all he said and then they were scrambling over the ground which Merlin’s light beam had unfortunately given a rather uneven shape. Actually, the whole tunnel was completely round. Arthur almost fell once, and he felt Merlin stumble a couple of times. They were near the exit when the stone rumbled again. This time it was accompanied by the distinct sound of rocks falling and shattering. The final feet seemed like miles and he wondered what his father would do if he died here.

Suddenly they were outside, blinking against the sun of the late afternoon. Merlin let out a hysterical giggle and Arthur had to bite his own lip to keep his in.

“Well–” started Gwaine, but he was interrupted by a thunderous crash. As they whirled around a huge cloud of dust hit them straight in the face. Arthur’s eyes stung before he had time to close them but even afterwards he could feel the dust and sand slamming into his skin, making him feel like he had been buried alive under a sand dune.

The sight that greeted them wasn’t as bad as Arthur had feared. His eyes automatically sought the walls of the fortress and to his relief found them intact apart from the section closest to them which had suffered a partial collapse. But the city itself seemed to be intact. With a sigh he let himself slide to the ground and was soon followed by Merlin and Gwaine.

“Well,” he echoed Gwaine’s earlier words and Merlin burst out into full blown hysterical laughter. Arthur cast a glance at Gwaine who met his gaze and promptly joined Merlin. Arthur couldn’t help it. He laughed with them, tired and giddy with all the excitement, burying his head in Merlin’s shoulder.

 

The moment was broken by the chime of the fortress’s warning bells. The dragons were circling over the city, not attacking but certainly threatening. It was clear what would happen and the dragons seemed to know it as well. Arthur cursed the dragons in his mind, and cursed himself for promising to let the dragons out. How many people would be killed because of this? He could have found another way to help Merlin, one that didn’t possibly cost dozens of people their lives.

When the first crossbow bolt launched into the sky the dragons screamed with what sounded like glee and dived down to the battlements. Some soldiers jumped down of their own accord to avoid the claws, some were pushed over and the unlucky ones were dragged to the sky from which they fell with pitiful screams. But the dragons held back their fire until one of the bolts grazed the wing of the white one. Now its scream was unmistakably one of rage.

“ _Vortigern!_ ” it hissed. “ _Come out or your city will burn!_ ”

And Vortigern came. He stood above the gates and lifted his sword towards the sky in challenge. From where Arthur was standing it looked like he was trying to threaten the dragons with a toothpick. He shouted something and the guards next to him scrambled away and the white dragon hung in the air for a moment, staring at Vortigern and spreading its wings to their maximum span. When it moved there was an anguished scream from the walls. A second figure, in a dress, Arthur noted with a feeling of impending doom, threw herself at Vortigern, shoving him back. Vortigern’s cry “Sevira” was even more anguished than that of his daughters.

The white dragon did not stop or hesitate, but snatched the girl with its talons and soared high into the sky. For a moment there was complete silence and then there was a new roar. The red dragon had already flown farther away but now it was speeding back towards the white dragon. The white dragon turned towards it with a hiss which turned into an outraged scream as the dragons collided.

Sevira fell. If she was still alive and screamed, nobody heard it from under the voices of the dragons.

“It broke its word,” Merlin whispered brokenly next to Arthur. He looked devastated. “It can’t do that. The Old Religion will never forgive it.”

Arthur couldn’t say anything, but he laid a hopefully comforting arm on top of Merlin’s. He looked back at the gates trying to locate Vortigern, but he couldn’t make out anyone.

“He drove his sword through himself as she fell,” Gwaine said quietly. In the sky the dragons separated in a fiery cloud, and the white one dived away, the red one following. It didn’t take long for them to disappear completely from sight.

 

xxx

 

They said their goodbyes to Gwaine the next day. He had a long hushed conversation with Merlin, which ended with a clearly exasperated Merlin giving Gwaine a tight hug.

“I don’t think you would make too bad a king, Princess. Good luck,” Gwaine said unexpectedly as they clasped hands goodbye.

Arthur grinned. “Then I guess you wouldn’t be too unwelcome in my court either.”

 

**Chapter 13**

 

Arthur enjoyed the easy companionship that fell over them as they left Vortigern’s fortress behind them. Merlin smiled at him and gave in to the playful banter, and Arthur was silently grateful that Merlin didn’t blame him for the dragons. It didn’t look like Merlin particularly blamed himself either. Sometimes he caught him falling silent and looking unhappy, but it seemed more like a general lament than self-loathing. And clearly neither of them wanted to talk about it so Arthur stayed silent. He wasn’t avoiding the subject; there just wasn’t anything to say. In the end it was Merlin who brought it up.

“She was the one Vortigern wanted you to marry?” Merlin asked nonchalantly as they enjoyed a full breakfast from their newly filled rations.

“Yes. She was rather brave, wasn’t she?” he said with a sad smile. He had actually never met her. Vortigern had only had a portrait with him when he had come to Camelot to negotiate.

“Yeah,” Merlin answered quietly. “You know, I have no idea if we did the right thing there or not. I don’t know why the Lady sent us there or what we were supposed to do. What if she had seen all that?”

To be honest that hadn’t even occurred to Arthur. “I don’t know. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“I know she did. I just wonder– doesn’t matter really. Thank you for coming back for me.”

“Couldn’t very well leave my guide behind, now could I? And after you stepped out to protect me like that I owed you a debt.”

Merlin looked puzzled, like he couldn’t quite decide how to react. Arthur was rather expecting an insult but all that he heard was a “S’ppose so”, which sounded almost fond.

 

xxx

 

The road was almost overgrown by the time they came to Afon Dyfrdwy. The river was coursing wildly, well fed by the rains of autumn, but over it was a stone bridge, no doubt of Roman make. Carefully Arthur peered at the bridge. It seemed somewhat out of place, like it wasn’t quite in sync with the surrounding wilderness. The stones were clean, without any cracks or other marks of nature, like someone had built the bridge not a moment ago and then just wandered off. He was about to test the stones with his boot when Merlin’s hand sneaked out and pulled him back.

“Bloody hell, Arthur! You don’t just step onto an obviously magical bridge!”

Arthur scowled at him. “Well, excuse–” he trailed off and stared at three small figures behind Merlin. They looked like women, except they were barely even four feet tall, and clad in strange dresses that were mostly white, but had coloured hems and trains. One was red, one blue and one green, and all had bronze ornaments of strange shapes, though dissimilar from each other.

“We are not servants of the Old Religion,” they said in unison. “But you must pass our test all the same as part of your quest.”

“Who are you?” Merlin asked, and Arthur looked at him in surprise. Somehow he had thought that Merlin would know.

“I am the servant of that which was,” said the woman whose hem was blue very helpfully.

“I am the servant of that which is,” said the one in green.

“And I am the servant of that which will be,” completed the one in red.

“Nine questions will be asked of you,” continued the one Arthur had quickly named as Future. “Three of ours you must answer and the bridge will open to you. Six more you will be asked but you shall not answer.”

Arthur nodded slowly.

“The mother of Emrys had a sister. The sister had daughters named Ribirthi and Haf. What was the name of their cousin?” said Past, startling a little sound out of Merlin’s mouth.

“Three castles stand on a hill. First castle from the north is famous for its beauty. One has the deepest dungeons in the land and the other cannot be conquered. A queen rules next to an old king. The queen has no dungeons. Each ruler has one pet. The boy king has a hawk. The unicorn does not belong to the ruler of the unconquerable castle. The beautiful castle is ruled by the old king. Which ruler has a wolf?”

Arthur tried desperately to memorise the riddle. He felt that he got most of it, but he sincerely hoped Merlin had an extraordinary memory. One would think so as he had to learn spells as well.

Future seemed to see his confusion for she smiled at him gently.

“Worry not, young prince, we will give you the book of riddles so you shall ponder over our words in peace. But my riddle is thus: What do you get when you cross a snowman with Dracula?” She turned to her sisters with a snigger. Arthur exchanged an alarmed look with Merlin. He had never heard of snowmen or draculas but they sounded like the most horrifying monsters.

Past produced a thick book of black leather and offered it to Arthur. His arms almost gave out under its weight, far greater than should have been possible for a single book.

“Rest by the well and enjoy its water as you ponder these riddles. We will come to you when you have rested and you will have to give us your answers.” And indeed when he looked in the direction where Past had gestured there was a well, and it was surrounded by flowers that seemed to believe it was the height of summer. Arthur watched in wonder, and when he looked back to where Past had stood, he found only Merlin standing alone, his face pale and withdrawn.

“Come on. I think we better do what they said,” was all that Arthur could think to say before he walked over to the well. Merlin followed.

The well was beautiful, made of grey stones hooded by a small wooden roof. Arthur peered into it, but could not make out the bottom. The bucket however had already been lowered.

“Merlin,” he said gesturing down towards the well. “You don’t actually think it’s befitting of my station to lift water from a well, do you?”

He smirked when Merlin startled out of his own world and rolled his eyes at Arthur.

“Of course not, I’m rather certain that would make the world end,” he said, but walked over to the well and waved his hand at it. Nothing happened and Merlin tried again, frowning.

“My magic doesn’t work on it.”

Arthur shrugged and spread his hands. “I guess you just need to do it the old-fashioned way. It’s a magic well after all.”

With another eye roll which seemed to be aimed at the well and the forest in general, Merlin started to lift the bucket. It took a surprisingly long time, and Arthur watched in fascination as Merlin struggled to get the bucket up. In retrospect he could have helped, but he had been far too entertained by Merlin’s reddening face and quivering arm muscles to interfere.

When Merlin finally heaved the honestly rather heavy looking bucket to the ground with a pant he took one look at Arthur and his staring.

“Arse,” he said, out of breath, and Arthur couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe you shouldn’t always cheat with your magic.”

“Maybe you should try being nice,” Merlin answered, but his smile gave him away.

They emptied their water skins and re-filled them with water from the bucket. It tasted refreshing, ice cold and clean, and even the coldness felt welcome in the summer of the magical meadow. They took off their jackets and lay down on the ground, backs against the stones of the well.

“The first riddle –”

“– is obvious. Think about it,” Merlin interrupted.

Arthur hadn’t meant to talk about the answer, but he backed off. Merlin would talk to him on his own time if he wanted to and if he was being honest he didn’t have an answer to any of the riddles.

“Well, it has to have something to do with seasons since the names mean Spring and Summer,” he mused. “What could be a cousin to a season? Month? Or some celebration? Beltane is in between spring and summer –”

Merlin laughed. “Arthur! Think about the riddle itself.”

Feeling slighted he turned away and opened the book lying next to him. The first thing he noticed was the curving title on top of the page: Riddles for Arthur, son of Igraine. Curious, he tried to flip the other pages open but found that he could not make it budge. Magic, he thought in defeat and settled for reading his first riddle.

_The mother of Emrys had a sister. The sister had daughters named Ribirthi and Haf. What was the name of their cousin?_

Arthur stared at the page. If Emrys meant Merlin, then that meant Merlin had an aunt. Who had two daughters, which meant that – “Very funny, Merlin,” he said out loud.

“You got it then?” Merlin asked, laughter still evident in his voice.

“Yes. And the second one is just logic.”

_Three castles stand on a hill. First castle from the north is famous for its beauty. One has the deepest dungeons in the land and the other cannot be conquered. A queen rules next to an old king. The queen has no dungeons. Each ruler has one pet. The boy king has a hawk. The unicorn does not belong to the ruler of the unconquerable castle. The beautiful castle is ruled by the old king. Which ruler has a wolf?_

It took him a while, but he was able to figure out the answer. He was a leader, a strategist, and logical thinking had never been difficult for him. The last riddle, however, baffled him completely.

_What do you get when you cross a snowman with Dracula?_

“Do you know what these snowmen and draculas are?” he asked Merlin finally when the book refused to yield an answer despite his glares.

Merlin shook his head helplessly. “I have never heard of either. They might be some monsters of the north. I have been thinking and I believe these women are dísir, spirits of Daneland who serve the fates. But I don’t understand this riddle any more than you do.”

Arthur felt the beginning of a headache starting to form somewhere behind his eyes. “You studied magic with the druids, you are supposed to know!” he snapped.

“I’m under no obligation to help you with this,” Merlin hissed back. “So excuse me for trying out of the goodness of my heart.” He rose and marched to the other side of the well, out of Arthur’s line of sight. After a while he spoke again, this time in a calmer voice: “I know how much this means to you, but that doesn’t mean you can take your nerves out on me. Even if we don’t get the answer we can figure something else out as long as you’re not acting like a stuck-up prick.”

“I know,” Arthur answered quietly and walked over to Merlin and lay down on the ground next to him. “But I’m not a stuck-up prick and neither do I get nervous.”

 

xxx

 

They hadn’t gotten anywhere with the last riddle when the dísir arrived. They sneaked in from somewhere in their peripheral vision and suddenly just stood there, looking down on them with their pale eyes.

“The time of answers has come,” they announced together.

Arthur and Merlin scrambled up into each other’s space. They were far too close for propriety, but Arthur took comfort in Merlin’s presence.

“The answer to the first riddle is Merlin.”

The dísir hummed in approval, a smile that Arthur couldn’t quite understand on their lips. They gestured him to continue.

“The ruler who has a wolf is the queen.” He took a deep breath. “And I don’t know the answer to the last one. You need to tell me what snowmen and Dracula are, otherwise the riddle is impossible.”

The dísir laughed. “Did we tell you what a cousin is? Did we tell you what a wolf is? No, but you still knew the answer.”

“That’s different!” he protested hotly.

“And yet it doesn’t matter,” Future said gently, and Arthur felt a cold hand around his heart. “For you answered the question all the same. To admit to not knowing is a better answer than to deny one’s ignorance.”

The sun was warm on his face as his mouth spread slowly into a smile.

“So I passed your test?” As he asked it, he remembered what the dísir had originally told him: nine questions.

“The first part. The rest you shall encounter on your journey.”

“But you deserve a reward. We know your sword was lost. This,” said Past and suddenly there was a shining blade in her hands, “is Excalibur. But be warned: after this quest you must cast it into Lake Avalon, for it is not yet its time to come to Camelot and serve in mortal realms. Will you swear this?”

The blade was beautiful, sleek yet strong, the craftsmanship flawless, and on it were strange, engraved letters. Without thought he moved his hand to trace them, and to his surprise the dísir did not protest. It would be a shame to throw away such a perfect weapon, but if it was the price he would have to pay for carrying it he would pay it.

“I swear it,” he said, forcing the words out.

“Then you shall have it.”

From the moment his fingers curled around the hilt he knew Excalibur had been made for him. It was part of him in complete harmony, an extension of his own body that sang to him. He stared at the sword in wonder and when he looked up he found Merlin watching him, smiling brightly in amazement.

“I think you will be remembered by many, Prince Arthur,” he said cryptically, completely serious, though he didn’t stop smiling.

“That only makes sense,” he answered, and to his horror felt his cheeks warming up. “Idiot,” he muttered just to cover it up as he ducked his head.

The ground was no longer covered in flowers, and the well had disappeared with them. The dísir were gone as well. He kicked at the colourful leaves under his boots experimentally, and they rose in the air with a rustle. Merlin shrugged.

 

**Chapter 14**

 

As they crossed the bridge night seemed to fall on them in one fell swoop and with it a mist rose from the river so that when their feet touched the ground again, the other bank had disappeared almost completely from sight.

“We should make camp,” Merlin whispered to him and he found himself answering in kind. The Perilous Lands were not named so for nothing, and neither of them wanted anything moving in the night to pay them any attention.

Merlin drew some wards in the air where they gleamed golden for a moment before fading.

“They’ll give us a warning if something approaches. Best I can do, I’m afraid,” he explained quietly at Arthur’s raised eyebrow.

“Better than nothing. Though for the most powerful sorcerer alive you aren’t terribly skillful with magic.”

“It was never implied that I was the most skilful one alive, you know,” Merlin grumbled.

“That explains a lot,” he said, but something made him continue. “Though you are still rather impressive.” He said it so quietly that at first he was sure Merlin hadn’t heard him, but then there was a just as quiet “thank you” whispered somewhere near his left ear.

They curled close to each other, both on the same hide so that they were able burrow under the other one to escape from the wet chill trying to sneak up on them. They managed to get almost comfortable and Excalibur’s hilt felt strong and reassuring under his fingers.

 

xxx

 

Arthur startled awake and struggled to sit up. Merlin was sleeping next to him peacefully so the wards couldn’t have gone off but there was something tickling at his instincts, not quite strong enough for him to make any sense of it, but definitely there. He scanned the low vegetation around them, but there was still mist curling around, obscuring his view. After a while he let his gaze follow their trail, from where it broke into two at a tree trunk and climbed up the side of a rock, to where it turned into an almost human-like shape with a white dress and curls of hair, which seemed almost golden. Slowly the figure gained detail, painfully familiar, and Arthur knew he had to be dreaming.

“Mother?”

The figure of Igraine Pendragon trailed closer slowly, smiling at Arthur just as he remembered her doing the last time he had seen her. Her eyes were the same bright blue as his own, and there were laughter lines on her face, making her all the more beautiful and real to Arthur. He hadn’t seen her in this much detail in years. To his horror he felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes and he shook his head furiously, telling himself to stop crying because of a dream.

“Arthur, dearest,” his mother said softly. “You have grown so much, almost a king now. Tell me where a king is crowned?”

Arthur bit his lip, looking at his mother. He would be crowned in Camelot, of course, but there was something about the question that bothered him. He released his lip when he realised he had bit down too hard and could taste the blood. It hurt.

It shouldn’t have hurt. He looked down at Merlin who was sleeping burrowed under the blankets and hides, and then to the figure of his mother, standing outside the wards. The dísir had foretold him six questions he shouldn’t answer. He felt a tear fall down his cheek as he turned away, and hid his head in the blankets as more followed.

“What is the meaning of this?!” barked the voice of Uther Pendragon startling Arthur back to wakefulness from the brink of sleep.

Uther was standing there in the mists just like the figure of his mother had, staring at him with accusing eyes. Arthur stared back.

“This does not befit you, Arthur. Huddling with a peasant on the ground like some mutt. You’re a prince and you would do well to remember that. Think, boy, who has power, the peasants or you, if you lower yourself to their level and are afraid to go against their bidding?”

With great difficulty Arthur ignored him and wondered how Merlin hadn’t as much as stirred at the Uther-apparition’s loud voice. Carefully he felt for breath and found it there, but when he tried to shake Merlin he didn’t react.

“He won’t wake yet,” said a voice sounding like it belonged to Morgana. “There are great powers at play here for you are important, Cousin. You must pass this test on your own.” She chuckled. “I know you’re wondering if I’m like the ones you just saw. I am not, though I’m not really here either. I’m here to warn you, Arthur, for the road ahead is perilous and I have seen many terrible things. Remember that everything has a price, even living.”

He thought back over what she had said. She had not posed him a question or a riddle, so after a moment’s hesitation he decided that he was safe.

“That makes no more sense than anything you seers normally spout.”

Morgana smirked. “It is not meant to. For what am I if not a seer as well?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You are–” he started but then stopped. It had been a question. He looked at Morgana who laughed.

“I see how it is. Take care.” Her dark eyes never left his even as she slowly faded into nothingness right in front of his eyes.

He spent rest of the night awake, waiting for other voices to come and taunt him and trying to re-memorise the lines on his mother’s face that he had forgotten.

 

xxx

 

Merlin looked at him oddly in the morning when he found Arthur sitting and staring out into the forest.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively.

Somehow Arthur couldn’t find the strength to form the words to describe what had happened. He was sure that if he said the word mother aloud he would break apart on the spot. Even thinking about it made his chest tighten in a way it hadn’t done in years.

“Arthur?”

Merlin’s eyes were wide and sincere as they stared at him questioningly and Arthur found a small smile that he was able to force to his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, that why I’m asking. Clotpole,” he said, eyes narrowing.

“A what?!”

“Clotpole. A word used to describe emotionally handicapped princes who think too much about themselves,” Merlin explained with a patient voice.

Arthur eyes him suspiciously. “You made that word up.”

“I didn’t actually. I just specified the meaning a little,” Merlin said with a shrug. “And it made you stop brooding.”

“Princes don’t brood.”

“Clotpole.”

For lack of a better response Arthur simply dug his elbow into Merlin’s side.

 

**Chapter 15**

 

There was only a thin patch of forest on this side of the river. It quickly gave way to hawthorns and thistles, which bit their clothing and skin with a bloodthirsty ferocity. Arthur was relatively sure that it was some sort of sacrilege to use Excalibur as a sickle, but they had little other choice besides bleeding to death after Merlin proclaimed that the cursed things were immune to his magic. In all honesty he was privately thinking that magic seemed to be a rather overrated way to solve problems, but he was ready to take it all back when Merlin healed his scratches after they had finally stumbled out of the reach of the thorns.

The country in front of them seemed cruel. While the wastelands had been bare and desolate, the Perilous Lands were dead. There were a few trees but they were only black trunks with no signs of life, looking like a fire had burned everything worth burning from them. Rocks here and there, some great boulders offering shadow, though no real relief. In many of those shadows, Arthur knew, lay the bones of heroes and animals who had settled there to gather their waning strength and had never continued their journey.  Now, in the wane of the autumn sun the land wasn’t quite as unforgiving, though Arthur had no illusions about the cold that would creep in on them at night. They needed to move.

Arthur gave a sigh of relief when they left the burned forest, but Merlin, who had so far appeared quite relaxed, snapped into alertness.

“I think we are going to have company,” he whispered while craning his neck around to scan the landscape.

The shadow looked like it belonged to a big bird and Arthur’s eyes had already moved forwards when his mind caught up with him. He looked up only to fail to understand what he was seeing. It was flying so high it was hard to make out any details, but it was clear it wasn’t a bird. The shape was closer to that of a dragon.

“Tell me that isn’t a dragon,” he said flatly, and wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

“It isn’t a dragon,” Merlin answered but his voice was grim. “It’s a wyvern.”

“The difference being?” Now that he asked he thought the flight looked a bit different from that of the dragons he had seen, though he couldn’t pinpoint anything obvious.

Merlin’s explanation helped. “Smaller, no front legs, not enough intelligence to be reasoned with – and most importantly they hunt in packs.”

As if Merlin’s words had reminded it the wyvern let out a low gurgling sound. It rang clearly in all its unpleasantness, making Arthur’s skin crawl. Merlin actually visibly shivered.

“Why didn’t I just stay home?” he asked in a miserable voice. Yet he didn’t look defeated or even scared. His jaw was set in a stubborn line and his eyes were glaring at the wyvern like it was personally responsible for all his woes. He looked so much like an annoyed, spoiled child who had decided that the world was conspiring against him that Arthur let out a small chuckle.

“Let’s see how this magic sword fares against something other than plants.”

Merlin gave him a quick glare with eyes turning into gold and spoke a short litany of words. Warmth and light washed over them as a giant fireball sizzled to life between Merlin’s hands before whirling through the air straight into the unsuspecting wyvern which fell with a shriek. For a moment Merlin looked annoyingly smug and then the rest of the pack fell down on them from behind. They were ugly, their bodies graceless on the ground, but their long necks and tails gave them all the reach they needed. Merlin had to create a hasty shield to force some distance between them; a fight in such a close quarters would have surely been fatal. But their retreat forced the wyverns to crawl on them, confused by Merlin’s magic and slowly drifting apart from each other. When they were close enough Arthur and Merlin attacked almost as one.

There was the initial fumble, where Arthur tried to behead an approaching wyvern only to get almost beheaded by Merlin’s spell, but after that they fell into a comfortable pattern. But while Merlin’s magic provided wonderful background music it was Excalibur that truly sang for him, and to whose song he joined. He felt invincible in the middle of never-ending motion, the wyverns falling in front of him without any conscious effort.

He was whirling around to check on Merlin when suddenly the pain came, teeth biting into his left leg with a horrible burn. He cut off the attacker’s head with one fell swing of the sword, but it had stopped singing to him, and his body was heavy. The whole world seemed to tilt as he fell against it. Merlin shouted his name, and he tried to answer but all that came out was a gasp.

He was barely conscious when Merlin dragged him up. His vision was full off black dots and his leg felt like it was burning away.

“Fix me,” he demanded through the haze of pain and gritted teeth.

Merlin took his head firmly in his hands and forced him to look into Merlin’s eyes. They were nice eyes, their coolness surely calming enough to make the burning stop.

“I can’t.” It took a moment to register. “I can take the worst away, but first you need to reach the peak of the fever. I’m so sorry, Arthur. Sleep now, please.”

Arthur intended to protest that there was no way he could sleep in such pain but the blackness felt nice so he didn’t bother stating the obvious.

 

xxx

 

His mother came back. He could feel her soothing his burning face with her cold hands, but when he tried to look at her she had a hooded cloak and a mask that completely hid her features. When he tried to speak his mouth refused to open and all that came out was a muffled cry.  She left him then, turning into a burning flame, but Merlin – Arthur wasn’t quite sure where he had come from – lifted his hand and made it rain. Arthur tried frantically to signal to him to stop because the rain was making the fire falter but Merlin just smiled sadly.

“The queen needs to die so it can rain,” he said and Arthur tried to say that it was already raining, but Merlin just shook his head and made it rain until she disappeared with a hiss. Suddenly Arthur realised that the rain was actually caused by his own tears.

“Arthur!” Someone shook him violently. He blinked his eyes open and met Merlin’s golden ones hovering inches away from his face.

“Wha’?” he croaked, and Merlin’s face disappeared only to be replaced by a water skin. Arthur didn’t complain and drank greedily. The water was still just as cold and refreshing as it had been straight from the well. It soothed him, and cleared his mind but it also made him aware of a persisting sense of wrongness in his body.

He looked down at his leg and had to turn away in disgust. It looked like something had burned right through his trousers and the first layer of skin, and there were also traces of healed teeth marks around the edges. Overall he guessed he felt much better than he should have.

“What did you do?” he asked Merlin, whose eyes had returned to their normal colour.

He looked worried and tired, but he gave Arthur a feeble smile.

“It’s complicated,” he offered half-heartedly. “I used the burn of the fever to destroy the beginnings of an infection and healed it as much as I could. Then I broke the fever and kind of froze the wound temporarily, at least until we get you to someone who knows more about healing than I do. But it only lasts for a while–”

“We’re not going back,” Arthur interrupted. “If the spell fails you just re-do it.”

“You– Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? I didn’t save your sorry arse only to be responsible for your death myself,” Merlin said, dangerously calm.

“My life is my own responsibility.” Merlin narrowed his eyes, the shadows under them giving him a somewhat disturbing look. “You know I need to do this,” he added with a pleading note.

He saw when that sunk in. Merlin’s eyes softened from anger to sadness and his shoulders slumped forwards in defeat, and Arthur almost felt bad. But he knew that giving up was not an option. He needed to make it for there was no other life for him than that of a crown prince and a king. Merlin understood a little about the weight of duty on his shoulders, partially, Arthur suspected, because he bore something similar as Emrys.

But Merlin didn’t say anything or even nod his head. He just watched Arthur for a while before carefully moving closer and drawing Arthur into a cautious hug. Merlin smelt like smoke and herbs and not like sweat and blood like he should have. His forehead, slotted against Arthur’s neck, and bare arms were blessedly cool against Arthur’s hot skin. It felt good, almost like Merlin was draining his fears about failure away by using physical contact, and for a moment Arthur indulged, pressing their bodies even more tightly together, but eventually it became too much and he had to pull away.

“You’re such a girl, Merlin,” he said, trying to sound like he had only tolerated the physical affection for Merlin’s sake, but he knew he had failed spectacularly when Merlin only squeezed his hand.

 

**Chapter 16**

 

Arthur was already expecting it when the cat appeared. Well, he hadn’t specifically been expecting a huge black cat, larger than the massive hunting hounds of Camelot, but he had been expecting something. They were far too close, already able see the broken towers of the Fisher King’s castle in the distance, behind a hill.

They watched quietly as it approached them in a half circle, sizing them up and lifting its nose like it found them to be irredeemably beneath its station.

“I wish I had a crossbow,” he mouthed to Merlin who nodded back tiredly. Maintaining the spell was exhausting him, and Arthur had to admit he had been worse off even before that because of his earlier injury and the binding of his magic. Arthur honestly doubted whether Merlin could even defend himself if it came down to it and it was clear that he would be no further help to Arthur. Not that he wasn’t already helping, Arthur thought a little guiltily.

The cat stopped in front of them and just stared with its large yellow eyes. A pink tongue darted out to lick the sharp teeth peeking out from its mouth, but though the demeanour was almost lazy its muscles were unmistakably taut under the shiny fur. The reach of its claws was probably just shorter than that of Arthur’s with Excalibur, but it was probably faster and possibly also heavier. It was a very unfair combination.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to lift Excalibur. Immediately he felt its power wash over him.

“Damn it all,” he growled, and threw himself at the beast with a manic grin tugging at his lips.

The cat leaped aside, but Arthur had been anticipating it so he was ready to change course in mid-movement and follow. Excalibur flew out to reach it and he felt, rather than saw, in the whirl of movement how it connected with the cat’s front paw and then sliced through the flesh like it was nothing but air. It was so easy that he let out a victorious whoop which almost drowned out the cat’s screech. He followed the voice blindly and struck, Excalibur burying itself right in the cat’s chest.

Arthur grinned as the cat dropped down, and freed Excalibur with one smooth movement. He had never wielded a blade like this.

“Easy!” he called to Merlin who was leaning against a stone with a frown on his face. Arthur’s grin deflated a little. They needed to hurry, but at least this obstacle had been overcome quickly.

“Almost too easy,” Merlin said when he walked closer, not watching Arthur but presumably frowning at the corpse behind him.

Annoyance flared briefly in Arthur. “Or maybe I’m just that good?” he said a little snidely, while running his finger over the hilt of Excalibur. The craftsmanship was extraordinary as well. It was such a shame, really –.

Merlin’s glare was withering. “Don’t be a such a –” he started, but stopped, eyes widening. “Arthur. Three times nine. The dísir said there would be nine questions, and there were nine wyverns.”

He looked past Arthur, face pale. “So the cat has nine lives.”

The cat was standing up, licking at the paw Arthur had wounded earlier.  The blood was still fresh, but where the gash had been was now only a stripe of white fur. The same was true for the wound in its chest, except the blood at the edges had dyed some of the white to pink.

“I officially detest magic right now,” he said with a sigh. Merlin made a noncommittal sound, though it sounded suspiciously quite like an agreement.

The cat fought more ferociously this time. The claws were lightning fast, and Arthur gave completely over to instinct, twirling and even occasionally rolling out of reach. Finally, when he was ready to give up his soul for a mouthful of water, he rolled away from the cat’s paws towards its left flank and thrust Excalibur home with a satisfying crunch.

He scrambled up but didn’t remove Excalibur, waving Merlin over. Wordlessly he handed the waterskin to Arthur who would have probably kissed him out of gratitude if he hadn’t been so damned thirsty. It was what they had left from the well of the dísir, still magically cold and fresh, refreshing like a swim on a hot summer day. Even the burning of his lungs eased.

“I take it back, I love magic,” he said with a moan. He nudged the cat with his boot. “If I don’t remove the sword do you think it will just come back and die without me doing anything?”

“Probably not,” Merlin answered slowly. “But you can just stand prepared and drive it back in when it draws its first breath.”

It didn’t sound too bad, considering.

“Easy enough,” he said out loud. “Stand back, just in case.”

He removed Excalibur and as the cat twitched he drove it back in. The twitching stopped and with a sickening slurp he lifted the sword again. And then he drove it in again and again until the smell of blood made him want to vomit, and his hands trembled. It felt like an eternity had passed when the ninth time finally came. The wound closed like lightning and the cat took a shuddering breath. Arthur drove down, but he was knocked back by something black hitting his upper body. He stumbled backwards, lost his footing and stared in desperation at the creature standing over him.

He could now see what had knocked him backwards. They were wings sprouting out from the beast’s back both horribly unnaturally and yet like they had always been there.

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I hate magic,” he said while trying to find his legs and get into a defensive position. Which was when, of course, the creature charged and ran straight into a shimmering shield. Arthur sent a warm thought Merlin’s way, and jumped up, sprinting in the other direction to gain some distance.

He heard the high, shattering sound when Merlin’s shield broke. He saw the beast widen its wings and jump into the air and speed towards him. He tightened his grip on Excalibur, and let all his senses disappear into the blade and his sword hand. The shadow on the blade looked red.

The yellow eyes were looking at him from the midst of the red world. He charged, swung at the creature in a perfect arch, cutting through the whirling air and going down, down, down to the heart. Suddenly he felt like he was torn in two. There was no blade, but only him, a man, grasping at the air. Below him, on the ground, was Merlin. Merlin whose half-lidded eyes were fading from gold to blue and whose voice was like rocks grinding against each other.

“Let go.”

The words took a while to register, but slowly he lifted himself from Merlin to sit on the ground and looked for Excalibur. He saw the beast lying in a pool of blood, but the sword wasn’t there. It was laying a couple of feet away from them, and Arthur smiled in relief though something was whispering danger at the edge of his consciousness. He could protect them with Excalibur.

“Don’t touch it!” Merlin snapped, voice much stronger. “Arthur, look at me.”

Reluctantly he obeyed. He wanted to have the sword back, safe in his possession, and them safe in its protection, but something in Merlin’s voice made the command irresistible.

Merlin’s hands were like blocks of ice when they came to rest on the both sides on his face. And his eyes were rather pretty even when they weren’t gold. They were almost like bluish steel. Like Excalibur’s blade.

“I want you to think about what just happened,” Merlin said, so close that Arthur could feel his breath on his face. He wondered how it didn’t stink worse. Must have been magic. He giggled at the thought of Merlin using magic to freshen his breath.

“Arthur, focus,” Merlin said again in a voice that couldn’t be ignored.

“I–” He frowned. He didn’t remember fighting the beast. He remembered holding Merlin down. He had been holding the sword, but – his head hurt and Merlin wouldn’t let him look away – why and how?

“I was pointing Excalibur at you. Why? What happened?” Suddenly his head felt clear, but there was just black and red in his memories where the fight should have been. And – he had tried to kill Merlin.

“Oh gods, are you alright?” he breathed out. Merlin’s eyes softened in relief and he let himself lean against Arthur for support.

“Yes,” he mumbled quietly. “You let the sword take over. It’s supposed to become part of you in a fight, but instead you became part of it, just a mindless weapon for killing. They said that its time wasn’t yet, but I never imagined–”

“I apologize,” Arthur interrupted. “It was my weakness, my fault and you almost paid for it.”

It hurt to say out loud, hurt to admit to himself that he hadn’t been strong enough. But this was not Merlin’s fault.

“I think I need to lean towards the ‘I hate magic’ though,” he said, carefully supporting Merlin to his feet.

Merlin gave a weak chuckle, and Arthur watched with worry as he swayed on his feet before managing to steady himself.

“Can’t say I blame you. But I think you can pick it up now. You need to have a proper weapon and I think you’ll be fine if you just remember to keep your wits about you.”

“You think?”

Merlin gave him a pale smirk. “Well, I also believe.”

“Oh that’s alright then,” Arthur said wryly, but walked over to the sword anyway and picked it up gingerly. It felt cool, and perfectly balanced, but not alive. Quickly he shoved it into his belt. No need to hold it any longer than necessary.

 

 

**Chapter 17**

 

There were three boys sitting in front of the gate. The Old Religion’s fondness for the number was by no means a secret but Arthur was starting to feel like the next time he saw anything in a group of three he should just turn away and walk in the other direction as fast as possible. Right now he didn’t have much choice though, so he approached warily, Merlin somewhere behind him.

They looked harmless. They had a curly copper hair, freckles on their faces and as they grinned, Arthur could see their teeth were slightly crooked. The only weird thing about them was that they were all identical, but somehow they seemed terribly ordinary.

“Hello,” said one of the boys cheerfully, and it really didn’t sound terribly otherworldly or ominous in greeting.  The other two waved a little shyly.

“Greetings,” Arthur answered, and staggered when Merlin hurried past him without even bothering to avoid bumping into him. He cleared his throat pointedly, but Merlin had focused all his attention on the children.

“Why are you here?” he asked gently.

“You are Me-er-lin,” they said, echoing each other. “Mother said that Auntie Ninie said that we should say that we need to ask your prince three questions and only to let him pass if he gives us three truths.”

Merlin sighed. “He’s not my prince. Arthur–”

“Auntie Ninie?,” Arthur mouthed when their eyes met. Merlin screwed his face up in an expression that could have meant anything from “yeah, doesn’t she have lovely nephews” to “don’t even ask”.

“Not the important part,” he added out loud to Arthur and then smiled sweetly at the triplets. “Why don’t you go inside and tell Nimueh we have arrived while we wait here. You can give us the questions now and we will give you the answers when you come back. I promise we’ll wait right here.”

“Won’t you play with us?” pouted one, looking up at them from under his eyelashes.

“Maybe later,” Merlin said with a faint chuckle.   

The triplets eyed each other in silence and then hopped up as one unit and marched to the gate. When they were close enough to touch it they stopped and turned to look back.

“What is it that you hate the most?” asked the one on the right.

“What is it that you value the most?” continued the next one and the last one finished with “What is it that you love the most?”

They waved at Merlin, who waved back while smiling fondly, and then, completely simultaneously, stepped through the gate. Through the metal bars.

“Of course,” Arthur said slowly. Merlin dropped to sit on the ground with a groan.

“We need to hurry up, because I can’t keep the spell up much longer.”

“I know,” Arthur said and bit back all his questions about people apparently living here. “But those are my last three questions and according to the dísir I can’t answer them. But if I don’t they won’t let us in.”

Merlin ran his hand through his messy hair with a puzzled and tired expression on his face.

“Last three?” he asked and Arthur realised he had never gotten around to mentioning the apparitions on the first night. But Merlin didn’t give him a chance to explain. “Never mind, now. We do not have the time. All you have to do is give them three truths that don’t answer the questions.”

Arthur let himself to sink to the ground next to Merlin. “I suppose that stating that the sea is blue would not suffice?”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

 

xxx

 

The children re-appeared far too soon for Arthur to have formulated a proper plan about what to say. Yet he was also glad they hadn’t taken longer when Merlin didn’t even bother rising from the ground. He had to wonder if Merlin wasn’t going to be worse off quicker if he used up all his power. Not that thinking about it made any difference.

“Do you have something for us, Merlin’s prince?” they chorused, and Arthur mentally added people who spoke in sync to his list of things that should be avoided at any cost.

“I do,” he answered. “I’ll give you three truths. First, I believe that magic should be respected and valued.” He very carefully did not look at Merlin. “The second is that I never loved neither Gaenor nor Guinevere, but wanted to marry Morgana. And lastly I,” he trailed off. He had been going to say he missed his mother but now it seemed obvious, somehow both too easy and too difficult to say. “I believe my father was a better king with my mother at his side.”

He heard Merlin take in a surprised breath. Arthur couldn’t believe he had actually said it out loud. From anyone else it would have been outright treason. From him–

“You have given us three hard truths so you shall pass.” The boy looked thoughtful. “You are the first visitors we have ever had. This is the first time the spells have let anyone come through.”  

“How do you know they will?” Arthur asked doubtfully.

The children outright laughed at him and even Merlin’s eyes were clouded with amusement.

“We can feel it, silly prince. We are the king’s guardians.”

“I see,” he said and for once he thought he actually did, though the part about king’s guardians seemed rather vague.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked Merlin, who was still sitting on the ground. Merlin took the offered hand with a grateful smile and Arthur smiled back, pulling him up to his side.

The children moved aside as they stepped up to the gates, shoulder to shoulder. The gates shimmered with tension. The metal bars looked like they were made from beams of sunlight, becoming brighter and brighter by the moment, and then, just as Arthur thought he would need to shield his eyes, the light suddenly disappeared and a perfectly ordinary looking metal gate sprang open.

Finally, he thought as they stepped inside, heart swelling in his chest. They only had the final part left before they could go home. Before he had proven himself and could return to Camelot with his head held high. Just a little bit more before Merlin could finally undo the spell and rest while someone else healed Arthur’s wound.

 

xxx

 

The inner courtyard had been completely overtaken by vegetation. Flowers had fought their way into the sunlight from between the flagstones, and even a tree had managed to push out from the edge of an old stone well. Arthur supposed it was almost beautiful, in a terribly melancholy way. He could see that this place had once been a seat of great power.

There was a tall woman standing under the tree. Her dress was deep red, her hair long and dark, and her skin held the same paleness as Ninie’s.

“Dragon Prince and Emrys. Be welcome,” she said with a nod. “The king awaits you by the pool.” With that she turned and started walking towards a small wooden door in the wall. Arthur and Merlin followed.

They walked through wet and mouldy passageways, trying to avoid the debris in the light that managed to steal in from between the ivy growing over the windows. The cool air made Merlin tremble like a candle flame and Arthur was afraid he was about to catch his death. Just as he was going to wrap his hand around Merlin’s shoulder the woman suddenly shoved a door open and they emerged back into the outside world.

The place had probably originally been a queen’s private garden. Here the weeds hadn’t fought their way out but had simply taken over an already existing space. What drew Arthur’s attention, however, was a man sitting by a pool in the middle of the garden. He had a fishing rod in his hands, but his head was turned towards them.

When they reached the Fisher King, for who else could the man have been, the woman dropped immediately into a reverential curtsy. The king waved her up with a gentle laugh.

“None of that, my Lady Nimueh. It is a joyous day for the spells binding you here are at last gone. You are finally free to leave.”

The woman, Nimueh, looked up at him with grief in her eyes. “My place is by your side. As it always has been.” In that moment it was clear that Nimueh loved the king, and yet it was also clear that the king didn’t return her love in kind though his eyes were fond.

“This is no conversation to trouble our guests with. But I will not force you to leave. Yet go for now, talk to the three Reds before they charge into the world, and prepare a meal and rooms for our guests”

“As you wish, sire,” Nimueh said with another curtsy and hurried away, her head bowed.

 

 

**Chapter 18**

 

The Fisher King regarded them thoughtfully, leaning on his fishing rod. After a while his gaze wandered to Arthur’s wounded leg and sharpened.

“Let that spell go, boy. I’ll heal him, but if you don’t let go you’ll die.”

“I’m not a boy,” Merlin snapped. “I know my limits.”

Arthur was going to have none of that.

“I think you failed to mention that part to me,” he said accusingly. It made a terrible amount of sense when he thought back to the last few days. He took a good look at Merlin now, the bloodshot eyes and the sharp shadows bleeding into the sickly colour of his skin. Pure exhaustion didn’t leave anyone looking like that.

“There was no point. You couldn’t have done anything and rest assured I would have let go before it came to that. I don’t value you quite that much.” Though the words themselves were harsh they didn’t ring true to Arthur. He felt a terrible certainty that Merlin would have gone beyond returning just to save him. Probably would have for anyone.

“Yet you’re lucky it didn’t come down to that for I can heal him. Undo the spell.”

Reluctantly Merlin laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“You might want to lie down for this.”

It turned out that Merlin was right. The burning pain hit him in full force the moment Merlin withdrew his magic. There was no way his leg wouldn’t have given out under him if he had been standing. His lip was bleeding from where he had unsuccessfully bit it to quell his scream, but he didn’t even feel it before the Fisher King whispered his spell and the pain in his leg subsided, first turning into a faint tingling and then disappearing altogether.

Merlin who was crouching down next to him looked awed.

“I have never seen such effortless healing.”

Arthur pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down. There was nothing that could have told him that just moments before the leg had been a burned mess. Now everything looked flawless, apart from his torn trouser leg.

But the Fisher King himself looked almost bitter. “I paid my price a long time ago,” was all he said as he opened his tunic. There were white bandages underneath though dark blood had started to soak through. A faint sickly smell emerged into the air.

The Fisher King looked down at it ruefully. “End my curse, Emrys, and the Grail shall be yours.”

“But this is my quest,” Arthur said, frowning.

“This was a test for you both. And a preparation of sorts, I guess.”

Merlin froze in mid-movement. “I see,” he said with an icy edge to his words. “Might we have a chance to recover our strength before we attempt anything?”

“Of course.” The Fisher King didn’t even seem to notice the change in Merlin’s demeanour. “Nimueh will see to it that you’re fed and have proper rooms for the night.” He had barely finished his sentence when a door behind them opened and Nimueh emerged with the triplets behind her. She took one look at the bandages and gave them a disapproving glare.

“The feast has been prepared,” she said meaningfully as the triplets bounced up to them.

One lifted the king’s fishing rod from the ground and gave it to him. The other two attached themselves to the king’s legs.

“Now, now,” he said with a smile. “I thought you would have been long gone by now.”

“We’ll wait until it’s all over,” said the one who had lifted the rod, looking a little melancholy. It was a weird look on his young face, one that made him look much older than his years, but it was gone in a blink, replaced by a childish grin.

 

xxx

 

The feast wasn’t really one by Camelot’s standards, but there was meat, fruit and fresh bread, and the room was warm and dry so Arthur wasn’t about to complain. Even Merlin, though still firmly lost in his own thoughts, started to look a little healthier. The general atmosphere was slightly awkward though the king looked completely oblivious to it. Nimueh alternated between giving him worried looks and frowning at Arthur like she couldn’t quite decide whether she liked him or not. Arthur always answered with his best polite smile. The surprising part was that the triplets stayed quiet. Sometimes they grinned at each other or passed something over, but not a sound left their lips. It was almost eerie how effortlessly they communicated without words.

Arthur was more than a little relieved when the meal ended and they were able to safely retire to the chambers prepared for them.

They were situated in the same part of the castle as the room they had eaten in and it was in a relatively good condition, though the door that was supposed to separate their chambers had apparently disappeared. The old bed managed to even look inviting.

Merlin was sitting on the edge of Arthur’s bed, staring at the fireplace and brooding. In all honesty Arthur just wanted to kick him out and sleep. They both needed the rest and Merlin’s overthinking was not going to get them anywhere.

He kicked his shoes, torn trousers and the dirty tunic away and marched in front of Merlin, who startled out of his thought with a yelp and flaming cheeks.

“Ar– Arthur?” he squeaked, voice high pitched.

“Merlin,” he answered because surely a little barb was completely justified. “I’m going to sleep now if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Merlin muttered, head ducked, but didn’t move.

Arthur sighed, and slipped under the covers. He had no trouble in reaching Merlin for a good kick.

“Ouch,” Merlin said, massaging the hand Arthur had kicked. He looked affronted. “What was that for?”

“You have your own bed so use it.”

Merlin pursed his lips and gingerly rose from the bed. He tiptoed to the door, peeked in and shook his head.

“I’ll just stay here,” he said, throwing off most of his clothes and diving onto the other side of the bed before Arthur had a chance to make a sound.

By the time the startled “What do you think you are doing?” escaped his lips Merlin had disappeared completely under the covers.

“’am sleeping,” came a muffled reply.

Arthur stared at the fire bemusedly for a long while before sleep finally took him.

 

xxx

 

He woke when the last corner of the blanket he had been hugging disappeared from his grasp. Desperately he tried to grab it back but when his hand finally came into contact with a lump of blankets it firmly refused to move. With a groan Arthur opened his eyes. Merlin had created himself a snug blanket cocoon. Only part of his face and hair was visible and he looked overall far too comfortable. The fire had gone out during the night and there was a faint chill in the air, enough to make Arthur shiver in his small clothes.

He gave Merlin a faint shake, but the dark strands only disappeared deeper as a response. Arthur rolled his eyes and took a firm hold of one blanker corner peeking out. Then he unceremoniously shoved Merlin out of the bed. He landed with a satisfying thump, followed by some confused noises and lots of flailing blankets before he emerged, hair messy and eyes still heavy with sleep. He blinked at Arthur and yawned widely before scrambling back up with the blankets. Arthur snatched his back with a satisfied smile.

“Tell me I dreamed yesterday,” Merlin mumbled when he had cocooned himself with his remaining blanket in a sitting position.

“I’m rather sure you didn’t. Though I don’t quite understand what you’re so upset about.” It had been surprising and a little puzzling, but Merlin had been helping him before as well so surely this wasn’t that different.

At first Merlin didn’t answer, but fiddled with his hair, first flattening it into a truly unattractive shape and then messing it up again completely. When he started to flatten it down again Arthur gave him a pointed nudge. Merlin looked down in obvious frustration and proceeded to play with a stray thread emerging from the blanket.

“They lied to me,” he said quietly. “It wasn’t supposed to be about me and you and the prophecies. It was meant to be just you. Wouldn’t you be mad if your father sent you to evaluate a possible new knight and later revealed that it was all just a test for you? That he had actually already made his decision?”

Partially Arthur could understand where Merlin was coming from, though Merlin’s example didn’t hit terribly close to the mark. He had been kept in the dark about a lot of things that were of direct concern to him. But the whole thing was still strange.

“I would have known it was a test. Everything is.” He hesitated, trying to form his thoughts and suspicions into words. “But I do see, I think. These prophecies – are you talking about some specific ones?”

Merlin’s laugh was almost ugly. When Arthur looked at him, startled, he hid his head in his knees to muffle the sound. When it died he lifted his head to speak.

“Oh yes, we are destined to achieve greatness together, Prince Arthur. You’re the light to my darkness, fearlessness to my caution and rationality to my intuition. Two sides of the same coin, puppets in the hands of the gods.” He chuckled again. “I just wanted to be Merlin. To be here because I happened to be powerful enough to protect you if needed to be and experienced enough to give my opinion about you. Not because of destiny.” He looked at Arthur expectantly, like he should have had something to say, but he couldn’t do anything other than nod. Morgana had to have known. Known and said nothing.

“Instead it was a test,” he continued after a while. “A test if we were good enough for our destinies. I wonder, if we were to fail, could we then walk on our own path.”

“I cannot fail,” Arthur answered immediately. “There is no other path for me. I was born to be a king, not a farmer or anything else. But don’t you think that even the fact that they tested us is proof that nothing is set in stone. Morgana always says that there are many possible futures. Our actions take us to one of them.”

Arthur had never really understood it or given it too much thought, but it seemed like the right thing to say. Merlin’s eyes were wide and pained, but there was understanding there. Understanding and acceptance.

“Maybe so,” he said in a quiet voice. “But don’t worry; I’m not going to make you fail on purpose.”

“I never thought you would,” Arthur answered, because the thought genuinely hadn’t even crossed his mind. He couldn’t imagine Merlin making such a decision about his life without his agreement. After all, the thought that someone had compromised his free will was what had sparked the conversation in the first place.

Merlin’s smile was a little startled, like Arthur’s words had completely surprised him and the smile had just crept up on him while he had been distracted. He gave Arthur’s bare forearm a feather light touch.

“Thank you,” he said simply and climbed out of the bed with his blanket still wrapped around him. It made him look like a caterpillar and Arthur chuckled and wondered if there had been any magic in that touch. There was just the faintest pleasant tingle where Merlin’s fingers had brushed his skin.

 

**Chapter 19**

 

They were in the same garden where they had met the Fisher King for the first time. The sky was clouded over and the air was heavy with the expectation of rain.

The Fisher King was looking up at the sky wistfully. “It rains so rarely, these days. Even more so outside the castle.”

Arthur was about to ask for an explanation when Merlin nodded thoughtfully. “Even though you said the spells had broken you didn’t mean all of them. I can feel it, the one that binds you and the land.”

“Indeed.”

Merlin frowned with a slightly distasteful expression. “It’s wrong. Like something once beautiful twisted beyond repair. What happened? And why can’t you break it yourself?”

The Fisher King sighed and carefully sat down on the stone next to them. Arthur thought he looked older now than the day before when he had greeted them with joy.  His shoulders were hunched and his face tight with both eagerness and fear. He moistened his lips before speaking.

“A king is connected to his land. I sought something I shouldn’t have and the Otherworld responded by turning my land against me. I’m bleeding because the land is.”

Arthur noted how carefully he didn’t quite answer the question. “And what was this something?” he asked suspiciously.

The Fisher King shook his head and smiled bitterly. “Immortality. And I found it.”

It wasn’t a complete surprise for the tales about the Fisher King had been around for a long time – even before Arthur’s birth. Yet it was startling to hear. A small part of him was intrigued even though the proof about the idea’s foolishness was sitting right before him. Nobody wanted to play with the natural order and the Otherworld.

“Break the curse on these lands and the Grail shall be yours. Though beware, for its powers are perilous,” the Fisher King added ominously.

Merlin had gone pale. “Death is a new beginning. With the king’s death the land is reborn,” he said, sounding like he was quoting something.

For the first time the Fisher King’s smile was genuine. He still looked old and sick, but peaceful like all the torments of this world were already leaving him. Arthur was almost certain that he understood. The Fisher King wanted to die.

“I don’t know how to kill an immortal,” Merlin said quietly.

“The fey blade can do it. But you need to be the one to swing it.”

“Why can’t I do it?” demanded Arthur, angered by the unfairness of the situation. Merlin, despite holding frightening amounts of power, felt pure in a way that Arthur couldn’t quite explain. He had ideals he wasn’t willing to compromise and if Arthur was quite honest he almost admired it. He certainly didn’t want Merlin to lose sight of himself. Merlin gave him a grateful smile, though it had a hopeless edge to it.

“The spell would stop you. It cannot touch the blade but it would stall your hand and seduce your mind. But your power, Emrys, is too great for it to overcome. Or so I hope.” The Fisher King seemed to read the reluctance in Merlin’s face. “I beg you,” he  whispered gently.

Merlin took a deep breath and nodded tightly.  He made an inviting motion towards Arthur’s belt, where Excalibur was, and wordlessly Arthur passed it to him.

“How do I–?”

The Fisher King knelt against the stone he had been sitting on.

“Chop my head off. Better make sure,” he gave a dry laugh, but neither Arthur nor Merlin could muster even a hint of amusement.

Hesitantly Merlin positioned himself next to the stone. His stance was horrible and his grip of the sword unsure. With a sigh Arthur stepped up to him. Gently, he moved Merlin’s body into the right position and adjusted his grip.

“Strike hard and strike fast,” he murmured in Merlin’s ear and gave his shoulder a firm pat before backing away.

He didn’t look away, though. He looked when Merlin lifted the sword up high, sweat glistening on his brow and his eyes brightening to an already almost familiar gold. He looked at how the Fisher King closed his eyes and let his forehead rest against the cold stone. He looked at how Merlin’s hands trembled and then struck, quick as a snake. The crunch of bone was loud and horrible and was followed by a cold clang as the sword struck the stone. But the head never lolled down from the stone nor did the body drop to the ground. The moment Excalibur struck true the body turned into dust. And there in the dust glittered a metal cup.

Merlin dropped Excalibur and turned away. His frame was completely rigid and for a while he just stood there in complete stillness.

“I did the right thing,” he said finally, looking at Arthur, who nodded in response and picked up the Grail.

“Let’s go home.”

An anguished scream almost cut Arthur’s words short. Wind picked up, whipping mercilessly through the whole garden, bending the weeds and forcing Arthur and Merlin to crouch down for cover. Finally it settled into a huge whirlwind above the pond, where the waters rose to greet it.

“What’s that?” Arthur shouted over the wind.

“Nimueh,” Merlin mouthed back, shoved Excalibur into his belt and took a firm hold of Arthur’s hand, securing the Grail with his other one. “We are leaving now!”

He spoke a spell, a long one, but Arthur’s focus was on the whirlwind. He thought he could almost hear weeping from behind the wind’s howls and he was sure he caught a flash of red like that of Nimueh’s dress.

The wind started to gather around them as well as Merlin spoke. Arthur had to close his eyes against the whipping air and only opened them again when Merlin stopped speaking. For a moment he could see Nimueh’s figure, standing above the water and then the whole world seemed to tilt into a swirl of colour.

 

xxx

 

He had never felt so sick in his entire life. When the ground below him stabilized all he could do was scramble to the nearest bush, which fortunately was rather close, and empty his stomach.  He was still trying to spit the taste out of his mouth when he heard steps from behind him.

“Merlin, I swear –” Spit. “– if you ever mention this to any living soul–”

“Oh, I’m sure there is no need for threats, cousin dearest,” announced Morgana’s gleeful voice, almost causing Arthur to choke on his own spit and launching him into a highly uncomfortable fit of coughing and gagging.

Morgana laughed, but Arthur was ready to forgive her the moment she handed him a water skin, though she never did stop laughing. He snatched it gratefully and used the first mouthful to wash the worst of the foul taste from his mouth and then drank greedily.

Arthur didn’t notice Merlin approaching before he was standing in front of him. He looked a little greenish as well, but Arthur found himself a little resentful all the same. Apparently the spell had less effect on the caster because if Merlin had been feeling the same effects in his willow frame he would have been puking his guts out.

Instead Merlin handed the Grail to Morgana, who lifted it into the air with an expression of wonder on her face.

She looked almost like a goddess, her long black hair flowing down her back, the long blue dress swirling in the wind and most of all the Grail glittering in the sun. The only thing ruining the image was the stench of Arthur’s own vomit. Yet it didn’t seem to bother Morgana as even when she finally tore her eyes away from the Grail her expression just turned into an even more joyous one.

“Congratulations, both of you. You managed to get through your quest successfully and alive.”

 

**Epilogue**

 

He was staring into the depths of Lake Avalon, Excalibur in his hands. It was evening, the darkness of the autumn already heavy in the air, but he had decided to return to Camelot as soon as possible. Now just the final part, throwing the sword into the lake, remained.

He felt both relieved and regretful. He had never held such a weapon and doubted he ever would, though the dísir had rather implied that Excalibur would return when the time was right. Whatever that meant. But he hadn’t forgotten how utterly he had lost himself to the weapon, how he had failed to control it. He doubted it was evil, more a thoughtless weapon made for killing. It had been his task to control that instinct and he had failed.

It was beautiful though, perfect in form and craft, and the strange runes at its sides enticing to the eye. He should have asked if someone here knew what they meant.

“Did you know it says pick me up and cast me away?” said a voice somewhere far too close to his back for comfort. He might have physically startled a little.

“Oh hell, Merlin,” he huffed, because of course it was him. “Did you just read my thoughts?”

Merlin’s eyes lit up in amusement and he shrugged innocently.

“Maybe we just have this connection?” he asked teasingly.

Arthur was relatively sure that meant Merlin had just made a good guess, though he couldn’t help but be a little bit suspicious. “Is that so?”

“Destiny and all,” Merlin said and rolled his eyes for good measure. “You should just do it,” he added in a far more serious manner with a nod to Excalibur.

Arthur sighed. “I know.” In a measured arch he brought his hand back. It felt so very easy to lift the blade and swirl it through the air. But he wasn’t stupid, so when the moment came he let go. With a small pang in his chest he watched as the sword spun through the air and finally sank under the waves, tip first and almost without any sound at all.

“Well,” he said awkwardly. He wondered when he would meet Merlin again. He made life interesting if nothing else and Arthur had gotten quite used to his presence. It would be odd to leave him behind.

He settled for a manly pat on the shoulder. “Thank you,” he said. “For, you know, everything really.”

Merlin gave him his widest smile, the one that made him look somewhat mentally challenged, and despite himself Arthur smiled back very slightly in a much saner manner.

“I should get going,” he said retrieving his hand which had stayed on Merlin’s shoulder almost without his notice. Merlin’s smile deflated a little and he suddenly seemed to be looking anywhere but at Arthur.

“I’m coming to Camelot,” he blurted out. “I mean, not because of you, really. So not really your business because the court physician is skilled in healing and I just want to leave though of course Iwouldntmindseeingyouaroundeither,” he continued without taking a breath, the last part so fast and breathless that Arthur barely understood him.

“I’m glad,” he said, amused and not really thinking about the words before they had already left his mouth. When his thoughts caught up with him he almost clarified that he was glad Merlin wasn’t coming because of him. But he decided not to. They were alone in the night, and in all honesty he was in no mood for lying. To himself or to Merlin.

 

xxx

 

They didn’t use the transportation spell although Merlin offered. Arthur was quite content with the boat and walking, especially when this time around there was no need for the oar.

 

 


End file.
